Angel on The Radio
by Seazu
Summary: AU!College: Dean's just started University, and he's finding it hard to adjust. His only relief comes from listening to the mysterious show 'Angel's Demons' on KJHK radio. The MC, a man known as Angel, becomes Dean's only friend and source of refuge without even knowing he exists. When Dean finally bites and calls in, their relationship begins to grow.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

"_It's another lazy-hot day in Lawrence; unfortunately for any lizards out there yearning for the sun, today marks the first full day of classes starting right here in University of Kansas. That means shaded lecture theatres and droning professors – do enjoy. Here to help you along, as ever, this is a track from me to you…"_

As the cool voice cut off to be replaced by a well-picked song, Dean rolled over in his bed. He couldn't help the smile on his face, he liked this guy – he was funny, he had a good taste in music. Only thing was no one really knew who he was. He was a student, probably, he had a two hour slot every other day and an extra late night slot on a Friday. He had an amazing voice for radio, that much was sure – just the perfect mix of serenity and deep, gravelly tones that made Dean think he might be just a joint away from spitting conspiracies down the mic.

He'd been finding it hard to settle in, only a freshman, only his first few days here; and the crisp voice and kick-ass tunes assaulting his ears were the highlight of his day. He'd never been in to the education thing, but his mom had encouraged him to make the most of himself, and the only way he knew how to do that was follow what their _real _pride and joy Sammy had been talking about for so long. Sam's five year plan (slightly altered of course) had become Dean's five year plan. So here he was in KU, studying Mechanical Engineering, which would probably just land him back on the path of working on cars anyway.

But he liked that, he liked machines, they were easy, they were predictable. Not like people. And he had never been all that good socially, sure he was athletic and quite handsome (so he was told, but he had never had trouble getting a girl), so he was far from the normal 'outcast' or 'geek', but prolonged interaction wasn't exactly his strong suit. That made fitting in here even more difficult.

And that's why listening to this show, on the university radio, made him feel a little better. The mysterious presenter, went by Angel on the show for any callers – his show being called Angel's Demons. He didn't quite get it – figured Angel was either quite religious or a book-enthusiast. And Dean was neither of those things; but it didn't stop him from wondering what it would be like to be the guys' friend. And maybe that was a thought dragged directly from the mind of a teenage girl obsessing over her favourite idol; but he still felt this was different, because he just wanted a friend.

So many times he found himself almost talking back to the man on the radio, agreeing with his statements, laughing at his jokes, singing along to the songs he played. Even if this was only really a one-way relationship, he still saw Angel as a friend.

But sometimes he wondered if things would change if he ever met him in person. Would he be a whole other somebody? Would he think Dean a creep and laugh at him if he ever found out?

The song ended and Dean readjusted his headphones as he lay on his back again, maybe it would be better if he never found out.


	2. A Problem

**Chapter One**

Dean had a problem with his roommate.

He was a jerk.

A _real _jerk.

He couldn't exactly complain about the personality test that had led to them being put together, because from what he did know about Michael Milton, they were pretty similar in most ways – but that didn't stop him from being a real asshole. He was a member of pretty much every elitist sports club or society on campus, he was on the Christian Union, he was on the Football Team, he had a collection of books that even Dean found impressive, he was smart, a goody-two-shoes, but he was an asshat.

He was the kind of two-faced, dick that had a squeaky-clean record and was always on best behaviour in front of the people that mattered, but when he was alone with the weaker links in the social chain he really tortured them. And no one would believe that he could turn so nasty. Hell, Dean was surprised when he first saw Michael change, and he was a pretty good judge of character. For just a while, he thought he might have had a lucky break and gotten a decent roommate. Of course not.

Worst of all, he was the kind of guy that would expect you to keep your mouth shut about anything he did that was against the rules, but if you did anything like that around him, it became a bargaining chip for him to use to twist your will. And it was horrible, it was torture. Because, despite them being on a dry campus, he had been hoping that he would have a roommate who would be cool enough to keep his mouth shut if Dean managed to sneak a few beers in. Of course not.

"_I would say 'hope you liked that', but there's no way someone who listens to this show can't appreciate that song. I _know _you liked it…"_

Dean snuggled the quilt around his head and squeezed his eyes shut, just focusing on Angel's crisp tones, hoping to push the world away. He was trying hard in his classes, keeping up, but keeping his head down. He just found them insufferably lonely sometimes, and it was hard enough having the pressure of constant work on your shoulders, and a jackass of a roommate, but then he had to cope with it all alone. God knows he couldn't tell Mary about it – she would be worried and try to pull him out or encourage him to stay at home, and he couldn't do that now that he'd finally proven he could be independent and not a screw-up. He definitely couldn't tell John, he wouldn't be able to stand the look of disappointment in his father's eyes. The only one he could rely on was Sam, but thinking about it, he didn't want to ruin his baby brother's dreams and expectations of College life. He knew Sammy would thrive here, he always did no matter where he went.

A sharp pain against his forehead stirred him from his thoughts and he slowly surfaced, opening his eyes a little groggily to see Michael standing over him, hand positioned in such a way that let him know he had flicked Dean in the forehead. His lips were moving but all he could hear was Angel. Reluctantly, he slid the headphones off and stared dryly up at the other man, "what?"

Michael stared back with disdain through half-lidded eyes and rubbed a hand through his dark hair, "haven't you got better things to do than lie around listen to that thing?" he repeated, seething that he had been ignored the first time. He _hated_repeating himself.

"Like what?"

Michael shrugged and stepped back towards his side of the room, "I really don't care, but I have someone coming over – so, kindly," he said, pausing with that serene voice he used around people of authority, but it turned nasty quickly as he violently jerked his thumb towards the door, "take a hike."

Dean rolled his eyes, and with a defiant expression removed himself from the bed and shrugged on his jacket. Pressing his earphones back in as he left Michael alone, muttering "_it's my room too…."_as he went. Unfortunately for him, Angel's show just turned the hour and had ended. Cursing Michael he left the building to enter into the slowly darkening evening. Alone.

His feet were taking him somewhere, he didn't quite try to think about where. The voice occupying his ears now was far less smooth, it was almost irritating, but the music wasn't so bad. He knew where he was when he got there, he somehow always wound up here: a specific little wooded patch in the park. He sighed as he fell back against a tree and slid down to the ground. He could last here for a few hours until Michael had 'entertained' his company.

He'd never met the girl, they'd never crossed paths, and Michael seemed to like to keep it that way. He never talked about her and he never let anything slip about their encounters – in fact, every time he had been thrown out, it could possibly have been a different conquest. How would he know? He was a private guy, and he had his life so clearly sectioned off, keeping every little thing separate – and as much as Dean hated him, he had to admire that. He could never clean cut all of the elements of his life like that.

"_Hey there KUdes and KUdettes, it's funky-Tom, blasting your minds with the dopest beats known to man, here for the next two hours-…"_

He flicked his arm out in front of him, checking his watch, it was going to be long night.


	3. A Quiet Notion

**Chapter Two**

"_It's been a long hard week little Demons, but hopefully I managed to cut it up nice and fine for you with some classic rock tunes. I know, I know – I do my job and I do it well. No need to thank me."_

A hand slammed down on the desk, and Dean's eyes snapped open. One of his tutors stood before him, and he unwillingly pulled his headphones off.

"Am I borin' you, son?" he asked with an irritated tone. Great, he had messed this one up. It had been his intention to not gain any attention and just fade by, he thought it would have been fine if he went the whole year without ever getting spoken to by the lecturers or professors. It had been a few weeks, and he had successfully avoided interacting in lectures, he had gotten his work done and in on time. He didn't draw any attention to himself. He was never the smartest of kids, so he hadn't expected to achieve much, he had always just been aiming for a pass, a decent enough mark to get him through the years. But now, Mr Singer was standing over him with a gruff look, and he didn't quite know what to do.

Some of the nearby kids were looking over at him, knowing they hadn't really heard him speak – maybe hadn't even noticed he existed before, and he finally managed a "no, sir."

He shook his head, and flicked a hand towards his headphones, "what in God's name is so interesting anyway?"

"It's just the college radio," he said with a shrug. His voice became quiet, almost revenant as he said, "_Angel's Demons._"

Mr Singer rolled his eyes, with a rough, "I see" and turned away. Dean sighed with relief once he saw he was off the hook, but unfortunately for him, the encounter hadn't left him with the same invisible mystique as he had had before. The only three girls on the course seemed to have nudged towards him, leaning across and with knowing smiles, one said, "you listen to Angel too?" There was almost a tone of adoration in her voice, in fact it was practically dripping with it. He had never before considered that Angel might have a wide following, but it made sense. If he could see how amazing and addictive his voice and show could be, it was obvious that others could pick up on it.

His curiosity got the better of him when he nodded and said, "do you know much about him?"

The girls seemed to lean together and almost giggle – which was shocking because they weren't exactly the most feminine of chicks, especially considering the course they were studying. But they came back, the same girl talking again. "we don't know who he is of course – but rumour has it, he started off as a pirate radio in his freshman year. He would hack into the university radio signal and take over the show, from his bedroom. So many people started tuning into the show that it became the most popular one on the air, and eventually they just made room for his slots until he became an official part of the team, but no one knows who he is, he still does it from home. He's _so_mysterious." They giggled again and he nodded, smiling.

They started talking amongst themselves again, nothing of importance, just girlish crooning over how dreamy he was until it faded into something else. He was too busy thinking about what they had told him. He found it amazing, he must have had an absolute gospel following for the University radio to just give in and give him a slot. It certainly added to the intrigue. He pressed an earphone back in to hear the last of his show.

"_And don't forget, darlings, tonight's the late slot, the call show…"_

Dean had never called in, but he had definitely thought about it. He wondered what it would be like to actually have Angel talk back for once. When he was always so used to just talking to a non-responsive voice, just daydreaming about the things they would do, hanging out, talking, watching films, listening to music. In his own mind, Angel was his perfect friend. And sure, he might have taken some liberties in filling out the blanks in her personality, but he worked with what he had. It wasn't like they were actually going to become best friends any time soon – or ever for that matter.

He swallowed hard, and tried to keep his eyes on Mr Singer, for his own sake. Maybe tonight he would break that pattern, and actually call him up. If he got the room to himself – why not? What was stopping him? Michael was sure to have some sports club, or Alpha-house bullshit to go to. Maybe even a date. He smiled to himself again, toying with the idea, it was definitely giving him something to look forward to.

And he began daydreaming what he would say, to the mysterious Angel.


	4. A Sin

**AN: WARNING: **This chapter contains some "sexual" scenes, which is really non-details masturbation. Yeah. I went there. Hope you like it anyhow! Please let me know if you do~ I really want to hear your opinions on this fic!

**Chapter Three**

"_I'm not quite sure marriage could work for us, caller. I'm fairly certain we've never met, so you have no idea how persistently annoying I can be – also I'm known to be quite a handful in the bedroom, and I don't think you're quite up to that challenge. Alas, it can never be…" _The caller's line cuts off before she can rebuke, and Angel's deep, choking laugh rings like music to Dean's ears.

He was sitting up straight on his bed, clutching his phone nervously. Michael was gone as he had suspected, and now he was actually considering ringing in to Angel's show. The number was already sitting on his screen waiting to be dialled, he just had to man-up and do it. That, of course, was easier said than done.

He took a deep calming breath, and finally pressed the button with one shaking finger. He pulled out an earphone and pressed the cell up so he could listen. Heart pumping faster with every ring. In one ear he could hear Angel talking still. And then his voice echoed in the other: _"thank-you for calling, little Demon, please hold." _He didn't notice, but he was chewing on his lip, and the cracks were beginning to fill with blood. A familiar song began to play while he was on hold. He could barely control his breathing. His stomach was doing flips – why was he so god-damned nervous about this?

"_Well, looks like I have another caller, hopefully not asking for my hand in marriage, or my children… hello?"_

_Oh shit, that was him._

He quickly pulled the other headphone out of his ear and spoke into his cell, his voice a lot more shaky than he wanted it to be, "sorry to disappoint, I was actually going to ask you to marry me as well," he said with a nervous chuckle.

He was floating a little, it seemed so surreal, he couldn't believe he was actually doing this.

"_A guy this time? Interesting – at least the children thing is off the table," _he paused for a second, maybe in thought, but there was deep amusement in his rough tone,_ "well, what's your name mystery man?" _

Dean swallowed, "I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours," he said with more confidence.

"_Nice try, let's just stick with 'Angel'."_

He raised his eyebrows and retorted, "well in that case, call me 'Demon'."

There was that choked laugh again, it made Dean's toes curl. _"Fair enough, Demon. Are you just here to corrupt me, or did you want to ask something?"_

He hesitated for a second before he cleared his throat, "I was wondering… why all of the secrecy?"

There was silence on the line, and then finally the sound of Angel breathing out a little shallowly, _"you're referring to the fact that no one seems to know my true identity?"_

"Pretty much."

"_I'm just a radio presenter, Demon, why are you interested to know the intricate details of my life?"_

That hit him a little off-guard, but he pressed on, "why do you find it necessary to hide them?"

"_Superheroes get a secret identity, why shouldn't I?"_

Dean chuckled, "because you don't have any superpowers, and you don't save the world every day." _Just me._

"_Who's to say I don't?"_

"Touché."

"_Come on then, tell me, why do you want to know?"_

Even though Angel couldn't see it he shrugged, "I think you seem like a cool guy," he cleared his throat again realising how soppy that sounded, but it didn't get any better, "I just think if I knew you in the 'real world' we might have been friends."

"_Well Demon, maybe we are and you just don't know it."_

Dean chuckled bitterly, "I highly doubt it."

"_Why's that?"_

"Because I don't have any friends here, Angel."

Silence again, and Dean realised things had gotten a little dark, _"at the risk of sounding like an agony aunt, hold fast and you'll find someone eventually. Maybe you actually will run into me some day, and we could well become friends if you're sure it might be possible."_

"Maybe," Dean said slowly, and thoughtfully, "sorry."

"_Don't apologise little Demon, call again soon. I enjoyed this."_

And the line went dead. He hurried to put his headphones back in and listened to the last few minutes of the show. He was still in disbelief. For once he had talked to Angel and the man had talked back – even if the conversation had become a little awkward, he had said everything he wanted to say, he had (for the most part) made a good impression he thought… and thinking back then, he realised that Angel had asked him to call again. That was good, right? Angel never really said that to anyone else who called.

"_Thank-you to those who called, and to those who listened idly without taking the time to dial. Demons – and my little Demon – goodnight, and goodbye."_

'My little Demon' – was that him?

Dean's breath caught in his throat a little and he smiled as Angel's voice faded to his last song: Foreigner, A Night to Remember. He forced himself not to read into it. It was basically a sex song anyway – why would he want anything to do with that?

When it was over he pulled out his earphones and turned it off, flicking out the light and trying his best to drift off to sleep, but he was still buzzing from how happy Angel had made him.

Dean woke the next morning, immediately recounting what had happened the night before. And what kept rolling around in his head was the fact that one conversation with someone he just wanted to be friends with shouldn't have had such an effect on him. He didn't understand why he got so excited when Angel's show was starting, why his voice sometimes gave him chills, why he was obsessing over him so much – he could only think that it was loneliness, that he felt so isolated and pegged all of his hope around this man that he was just desperate for him.

But then it occurred to him that he had felt like this once before, about a girl in 2nd grade. She had been his first crush he realised a few years later, and he had been totally infatuated with her. Mary had realised this after he spoke about the girl – Cindy – non-stop for days. It was his mum who had taught him that getting her attention with gifts and kindness was a far more successful alternative than pulling pigtails and spitting wads of paper at the back of her head. It was probably Mary's influence that made him so successful with girls now.

University was a whole other ballpark though, the only girls he encountered here were the three on his course, and hitting on them would be in direct violation of his 'keep your head down' rule. And because he had stopped going anywhere, and he had no friends to drag him out, he didn't meet anyone else. He was actually naturally quite introverted and without the support network of friends to impress and later fall back on, he felt a little in deep water.

It didn't make sense for him to be feeling the same way about Angel as he had about Cindy though. Why would he be crushing on a _guy_? He held no curiosity for men, and outside of a friendship, he wasn't remotely interested in them. He groaned and sat up, pushing the thoughts away – it was too early in the morning to be dealing with such difficult issues.

He made his way to their bathroom, and locked the door behind him. He decided the morning wood had _nothing _to do with anything. How could it – it was a pretty regular occurrence and talking to Angel definitely was not. Stripping down he decided he could deal with this and shower at the same time.

Touching himself expertly, he summoned one of his favourite fantasies to mind – Princess Leia in her golden bikini with added twin blonde servant girls. The water slapped down on him as he continued his assault and the fantasy progressed. But he just couldn't keep the troubling idea that he might have feelings for Angel out of his head. Setting aside for the moment that he was definitely heterosexual and had no interest in men whatsoever, how could it be that anyone could fall in love with a voice? Though the tone was so rich and deep, as gruff as gravel in a cement mixer but so smooth and flowing that it was like dripping honey…

He lost all ability to think as he came, moaning just a little as he emptied himself against the tiles. He was pressed against the opposite wall, just pulling himself together before his eyes slid open and he realised he had just jerked off to the thought of Angel. Well his voice at least. Was that messed up?

He swallowed hard and distracted himself by cleaning the shower and finally washing himself.

Yeah, that was messed up, and really didn't help his inner turmoil at all.


	5. A Samaritan

**Chapter Four**

Dean pulled his bag over his shoulder a little tighter as he started the short trek back to his place. Evidence of his grocery trip was in the brown paper bag he was clutching to his chest. He had noticed the smoke a while back, and had been debating whether or not to keep his head down or help in the time it took to get to the steaming car. He couldn't help but admire the ass on the girl leaning in to get a better look at what might be wrong – how could he not, he _was _a guy after all.

He chewed on his lip for a second, hesitating before finally making his way across the street to the girl and her car. He cleared his throat and leaned in behind her a little so she could hear before saying, "can I give you a hand with anything?"

She seemed to jump a little at first but then she turned around with a cocky smirk on her face, "I know what I'm doing, Dean."

"Jo?" Dean said, blinking in surprise at the familiar face.

"Of course, dummy," she said with a wink, wiping her greasy hands on her denim shorts.

He laughed, happy at seeing his old friend again – even if it had only been a few months, it felt like an eternity. Jo was practically a sister to him when they were in high school together; she was the only one who could rival his knowledge of cars and music. He often thought if they weren't such close friends, he would have thought her the perfect girlfriend. As it stood, he had a bit of a bad record when it came to keeping a steady girl, so he didn't want to ruin things between them by trying to ask her out when the chances were they'd be broken up within the month.

He tilted his head at the car, "when did you get this?" he asked, knowing Jo didn't have her own car – or didn't when he left – she just drove her parents when she needed to get somewhere.

She wagged her hand through the air impatiently, "it's not mine, it's this guy's – he's off to call a tow or something, I was just trying to patch this up."

Dean frowned for a second then nodded, it wasn't often a guy would ask a girl for help fixing a car, but knowing Jo he didn't think the guy must have had much choice in the matter. He smiled and dropped his bag of groceries next to the car, nudging her aside with his hip so he could take a look, "what you got, busted radiator?" he guessed, judging from the smoke.

"Pipe's gone," she said, leaning in beside him to point it out.

He nodded, and reached around in his backpack for the tape he knew he had. Pulling a strip off with his teeth he patched the pipe up as best he could. It wouldn't go very far, but it wasn't going to get any worse straight away.

Dean clapped his hands together and stepped away from the car slightly, "who's the guy anyway, you know him?" he asked, bringing his hand to the hood, unlatching it to slam it closed.

"I don't know him, he was just having some trouble, his name was-" Jo was cut off because as he closed the hood he caught sight of a man just a few steps behind. He nodded at them politely. "Well, that's him." Jo finished, stating the obvious.

"Right," Dean said, reaching to offer a hand when he had stepped closer but dropped it apologetically when he realised how filthy it was, "sorry," he said with a chuckle, the other man shrugged with a curve of a smile, "saw Jo here and I thought I'd help out, name's Dean."

"Not that I needed the help," Jo interjected.

"Patched it up, should hold for long enough to get you to the garage, but you'd be better off with a Tow Truck if you managed to call one."

The man nodded with something that sounded like a "yeah." And Dean frowned a little. He wasn't all that talkative it seemed, he just seemed to be staring a little, so he disregarded him and turned back to Jo, "it was good seeing you again, you should call by some time, I miss you." He ruffled her hair, not worrying about the grease on his hand, she didn't seem to care much either, even if it did mess up her blond hair which she'd tied back in a mess to get a better look at the car. He had seen her do it a million times before.

"You sure you're not too busy for me, Uni-boy?" she teased him, nudging him back playfully. The guy seemed to make a little noise behind them, but Dean didn't turn.

"Course not, you're like my best friend, I'm surprised you haven't stormed up here sooner."

"Count on it then."

Dean smiled and picked up his groceries. With some short goodbyes he was on his way, slightly dirtier and with a smile on his face, but otherwise it was like nothing had happened.

* * *

><p>Cross-legged on his bed later that afternoon, he was reading over textbooks and notes, his earphones in place as he waited for Angel's show to start. There was apparently some ripple in the schedule, he didn't get it – the guy with the slot before him had run over a few minutes. He wondered if that would mean the whole schedule was going to be late or if that would just mean Angel's Demons would be cut short.<p>

"_Sorry to put my little Demon's through the stress of having to listen to more of Steve's show than they should have – but I'm here now."_

Dean smiled, feeling the relief seep through him that came with hearing the sound of Angel's voice. He loved that feeling, and it only seemed to grow in intensity every time it happened. Again it brought to the surface his worries that he might actually be developing feelings for Angel. What was worse about this was he didn't even know what the guy looked like, it was just a sound. He was falling for opinions and a voice.

_Might _be falling for.

That was important. Because for now he was just going to assume that it was really the intensity of a longing for company from the man that was really the strength of these feelings. He had never had feelings for any man before, and he didn't want to. He didn't want to complicate the emotions he felt with labels anyway, he was happy with just having the joy that accompanied experiencing them. He knew that hearing Angel's voice made him happy. That was all that mattered right now.


	6. A Daydream

**Chapter Five**

"You're going to scram again tonight, I've got-"

"Company, yeah yeah, right." Dean finished, receiving a sharp glare from Michael for his trouble.

"Good."

Tonight was Angel's late slot, maybe he could go to his spot earlier than he had to and listen to the show in peace, call in again. He smiled, yeah – he liked that idea. Michael's hand collided sharply with the back of his head, "wipe that dumb look off your face, seriously, you're such an idiot."

Dean glared at Michael but started getting some stuff together so he would be more prepared for his midnight stroll.

* * *

><p>"<em>If I'm not mistaken, this sounds like my little Demon."<em>

"You'd be right, there."

"_To what do I owe the pleasure?"_

"My roommate kicked me out again, so he could 'entertain company'," he snorted.

"_I see, you drew the short end of that straw then."_

"Better out here than in there."

"_Fair point – how's it going on the friend front?"_

Dean paused, with a glimpse of a smile, "I ran into my friend from High school a few days ago, she told me she'd come and hang out some time when she had the chance. That was good."

"_I'll bet it was."_

Dean chuckled, "still, any chance you're free to come hang out for a few hours now that I'm homeless for the next few hours?"

"_Nice try, little Demon, I've got plans of my own. Maybe next time."_

"I'll hold you to that."

"_Where does my little Demon hide when he escapes the heinous acts of his roommate anyway?"_

Dean chewed on his lip for a second before answering, "just my own private haven, even Demons have their secrets."

He chuckled in the way that gave Dean chills every time, and said, _"alright Demon, I won't pry… sorry to cut it short but we're almost at the end of the show."_

Dean replaced his earphones as he was cut off and smiled as Angel ended the show by saying, _"I hope you aren't too lonely tonight my little Demon."_

He hoped so too as he leaned back against the tree and closed his eyes, pulling his jacket in closer, and just willing time to go fast.

His conversations with Angel – which now happened every Friday night during the call hour – were a lot less nerve-wrecking. He looked forward to actually communicating with the man, and strangely, Angel actually seemed to take a genuine interest in him. Maybe it was just nice for him to have a real call rather than some lovesick chick (though he couldn't admit to being much better). He appreciated the interest in his life whether genuine or not though because it was better than nothing and for a little while just let him believe that Angel actually gave as much of a damn about him as Dean did about Angel.

Maybe he could actually found a friendship on silly calls to a student radio show. It was possible, right?

He could dream anyway.

And he was dreaming.

Vividly.

About a man with no face, just a voice. No distinguishable features – or none that he woke up remembering anyway. And they weren't exactly innocent dreams. But he just locked them away with every other strange thought that was struggling for air in his messed up head.

He shook his head and looked around him. There was silence, just silence. It pressed at his ears until it was almost suffocating and he couldn't help but be glad for the stray breeze that relieved the pressure by rustling the leaves in the trees. It would be turning to winter soon, and then what would he do to pass the time? He'd have to fork out cash he didn't have to watch a film or go to a bar. He _really _hated Michael.

He wondered if the douchebag would extend him the same courtesy if he brought someone back. A _girl _back. Or would he just sit there with a grin on his face until the chick felt uncomfortable and left. He swore if that day came and something like that happened, he wouldn't hesitate in knocking that cocky look off of his face.


	7. An Introduction

**AN: Hey guys, Merry Christmas and all that - I would really love it if you could leave some reviews, maybe tell me what you'd like to see or where you'd like this to go; I only have a few ideas for outcomes and twists, and well... since this is as much for you as it is for me, it would be amazing to hear your thoughts and they always light up my day~ Okay, so enjoy. This is really just the beginning!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Six<strong>

One of the things Dean really hated about living on his own was having to shop for himself. The other big demon was of course having to clean for himself, but shopping and cooking was really what was annoying him, at the moment particularly. He was once again completing that trek from the grocery store back to his place. He was just about managing the ridiculous paper bags along with his own bag which was slung over one shoulder carrying his books from university – notebooks, textbooks, pens, his wallet.

He had still a fair bit to go when he heard that dreaded tearing noise and one of his bags split, spilling the contents with a cringe-worthy clatter on the street pavement. The streets were pretty much empty apart from a few cars, luckily enough, so he was able to quickly snatch the cans that had rolled out onto the street without much hassle.

Cursing he began assessing the damage and trying to redistribute things between the remaining bags and his own backpack. In the zone, he barely noticed the car pulling up behind him.

"Hey, need a hand?" someone asked.

He waved a hand disregarding the offer, "it's fine, man, I've got it."

"Come on, I'll give you a ride home, it's the least I can do."

Frowning, Dean finally turned around to see the car he had helped Jo work on last week. He recognised the driver just as quickly and swallowing to look down at his groceries he reluctantly nodded, "you sure?"

"Of course, get in and point the way."

He couldn't help but note how strange the guy's voice was, it was on the verge of sounding idiotic, like he had a horrible cold and had just been sucking helium – no wonder he hadn't spoken when they first met. He was casually dressed and even looked a little scruffy but Dean couldn't determine his age at the quick glance he had stolen – but he could pretty much guarantee he was a student from what he had observed. So he trusted him that far – that he wasn't just some creep picking up kids on the streets.

He scrambled his things together and got into the front seat. "Dean, right?" he said, looking across, and he nodded in return.

"I didn't get your name the last time," Dean hinted, unable to stop the curiosity creeping into his voice.

The man smiled and moved the car out of park, starting to drive in the direction Dean had been walking. "No, you didn't, did you?"

Dean stared at him deadpan, "you're seriously not going to tell me your name?"

"Do you need to know it?"

"I-… no," he said, his brow creasing softly, "but, you know mine."

"That's true, but perhaps my name is of more value than yours, so it wouldn't be an equal trade."

"Wait, what?"

"Where are we going?"

Dean made a frustrated noise and flumped back in his seat not talking except to give him the odd instruction back to his campus. The man just seemed to be chuckling to himself, amused at Dean's huffing. Which really only made it worse.

"This is my building," Dean said, and the man made a little noise, he turned to him, "what?"

"Hmm? Nothing," he said with distraction.

"Whatever," he started gathering his stuff together in armfuls and struggled to open the door and let himself out, "thanks, I guess we're even." His voice was a little gruff at being teased, but he stopped halfway through getting out of the car at the sound of the other man's voice. He turned and leaned down to look back into the car, "sorry?" He couldn't help but see a hint of worry mixed into his expression and it confused Dean, but he stood there regardless.

"Cas," he said with a glimpse of a smile, "my name's Cas."


	8. A Confrontation

**(AN: Sorry for taking so long to update, I've been a little stuck now that I've actually decided on where I want to go with this. Anyway, happy new year, and as always I'd really appreciate your comments, they always keep me going and make me rediculously happy when I see them in my inbox 3)**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Seven<strong>

"I helped fix this guy's car a while ago, and he gave me a ride home the other day."

"_Oh, yeah? What was he like? A potential new friend?"_

"I don't know, he seemed a bit weird."

Angel chuckled, _"beggars can't be choosers."_

"Yeah man, thanks for that."

Dean was amazed at how easily he could talk to Angel now. Like the guy really had become his safe place. The nerves didn't hit him as much, just this swirling feeling remained any time he heard his voice, it was intensified when he was actually talking to him, during the late-night slots like he was now.

"_You know I'm right."_

"Yeah well, it doesn't matter anyway, I only got his strange-ass first name, and I don't know anything else about him."

"_If his first name's weird, doesn't that make him easier to find."_

"Okay, I'm desperate, but I don't think I'm quite at stalking level yet," Dean laughed.

"_Fair enough, little Demon, but don't think I won't be surprised when you do eventually cross that line."_

* * *

><p>"Okay, I'll meet you at the bus station."<p>

"Great, see you then!"

Dean closed his phone, sliding it into his pocket and slung a jacket on before heading out the door. He'd been waiting a long time for this, and he was glad it was finally going to happen. It had been a long time in the works, a lot of conversations, clearing schedules, sorting out bus-times and things to do – but it was all worth it. And he knew that, anyone could tell by the grin smacked on Dean's face as he walked to meet his friend at the station.

Sure, it was getting late, but that just meant they would have to spend the night – not that they hadn't already arranged for that to happen.

He saw the bus pull away from the station when he was almost there, knowing that would mean his friend would be there now, waiting for Dean. And that just made his smile wider in anticipation. But he heard a voice calling his name in panic and the smile faded all too fast, traded for a look of worry as he broke into a run towards the station.

"Jo!"

One of the things he'd always admired about her was that she could handle herself, but even he would struggle with the two assholes who were hassling her. Without even thinking he slammed into one of them knocking him aside and letting Jo free from where she was pinned against the wall.

He heard her sigh his name in relief, but he couldn't look at her face, because if he saw even a flutter of weakness there it would break him.

"Why don't you pick on someone your own size?" he said, immediately regretting the choice of cheesy lines.

One of the guys was taller, he looked wiry and gruff though, with dark eyes and a sort of scruffy beard which made him look older than he probably was. The other was shorted and a bit more rounded with intense blue eyes and thinning hair.

"Oh, look at this Zach, Prince Charming's come to rescue the damsel in distress," the taller one said, in a rough voice that Dean swore sounded a little English.

"Yeah, thanks, Al, I can see that," the other dead-panned, the one Dean had knocked aside.

"Fuck this," Dean muttered, not waiting for them to finish their bullshit before he swung out at the taller guy who was closest to him, before lunging at Zach. The was a flurry of fists, kicks and other dirty and underhanded moves that eventually ended with Dean standing, panting and bleeding and the other guys in just as bad a state leaving in – swearing to come back again someday, in a way not dissimilar to Team Rocket.

Dean watched them leave, before he allowed himself to fall to his knees. He was aching all over; he was not an inexperienced fighter – son of a mechanic and older brother to a kid who wasn't exactly known for being cool. But Al and Zach's back-handed tactics took their toll on him. Dean remained there, still fuming with rage, until he finally caught Jo's eye, balled up against the wall. He pushed himself to his feet and stumbled over to her, crouching beside the little blond he curved an arm around her shoulders, "I'm so sorry Jo," he said softly, his voice a little ripped up, "are you okay? Did they hurt you? Because I swear to God I'll go find them and rip th-"

"It's okay, Dean," she said, so quietly that it stunned him into silence. She never sounded so defeated, and when he managed to tilt her head towards his what shocked him most wasn't her puffy, tear-streaked face, but the trickle of blood running from her nose.

"They _hit _you?" he couldn't conceal the rage from his voice, not if he tried.

"They were trying to rob me… guess I need to take your advice and pick my battles," she said, trying to laugh but it came out as more of a choked sob.

He wanted nothing more than to find and utterly obliterate those assholes for laying a hand on his friend, but he knew he had to look after her first, he stood, pulling her with him – even though his hands ached beyond belief. "Come on," he said softly, leading her back to his place. Neither of them said a word.

More than anything Dean was just afraid he might let some of the angry thoughts bubbling in his mind spill over and upset Jo even further. So he just sat her on the toilet in the bathroom and cleaned her face up. She didn't seem to want to speak. Whatever the jerks had done had fucking traumatised her. He could imagine it would be scary, being alone and in danger like that. They could have done anything to her, he was just lucky he had been there, that he had been able to intervene.

But who had his back when he was in the same danger.

"It's always the quiet ones," Michael remarked with a snide grin, leaning in the doorway of the bathroom. "Who'd have thought you liked it _this _rough, Winchester."

"Get the fuck out," Dean snapped, slamming the door in his roommates face with some satisfaction. Locking the door. There were some angry grumbles and a fist pounding the door once that made Jo jump so much that Dean was tempted to go back into the room and take his remaining rage out on Michael, but he resisted. And Michael stayed quiet.

When he was finished looking after Jo, he started on himself, soaking his hands in the sink, letting the hot water and anti-bacterial do its work, stinging away the bad things. He was surprised when he saw Jo stand in the reflection of the mirror, and she tended to him, wiping away the blood from his face, patching up his ruined knuckles. But she still didn't say anything. He felt like Jo was just going through the motions, like she was lost in thought, trapped in a loop of thinking about what had just happened to her, what might have happened to her. And he hated that, but he didn't know what to say. He just let her unlock the door and lead them to his bed, so she could curl up into his chest and let him hold her.

He had never seen his best friend so shattered, and unlike herself. Sure she got scared sometimes, and emotional, but never to this point. He curled around her, stroking her hair softly. When Michael came back he didn't even say anything just got into bed and turned off the light. And eventually, Dean fell asleep too.

* * *

><p>He woke in the middle of the night, Jo was out cold, as was Michael as far as he could tell. He could only see the neon glow of his alarm clock, telling him Angel's show was on. The late-night slot. The one he never missed. It was like his body-clock was programmed to the guy's show schedule. He pulled out his cellphone and slipped out of the room, downstairs, outside to a smoking area that was abandoned at this time night. He was still in his clothes from before, so the cold wasn't as harsh.<p>

_Speed-dial #1_

"_You're live on Angel's Demons, how can I help?"_

"Hey there," Dean's voice sounded almost sadistically melancholy. Still torn up from yelling earlier, and he could already feel the rage seeping back into his body.

"_... is this my little Demon?" _Angel's voice came hesitantly, as if he was trying to understand what was wrong already.

"Got it in one," Dean shot back, his voice so dark it was truly unlike him.

"_Is something wrong? You don't quite sound yourself."_

"That friend I told you about, she came to visit me today."

"_That's good… isn't it? You don't sound too happy."_

"That might be because two assholes jumped her at the station."

"_Is she okay?"_

"She won't speak, all I know is that they hit her, and threatened her… she's asleep now," he stopped almost shaking at that point, "but _god-dammit_! What the hell gives them the right to go near my friend? To scare her like that? When she finally comes to see me, and now she'll be too afraid to come back. If I could lay my hands on them again I-"

"_You laid your hands on them already?"_

"Of course I did! I wasn't going to stand by and let that happen!"

"_How many were there?"_

"Just two guys."

"_By yourself?"_

"What do you think…"

"_I'm sorry, Demon," _he paused, _"are _you _okay?"_

Dean swallowed a little taken aback, he shook his head, his voice a little calmer but stubborn, "it doesn't matter if I'm okay, only that she is."

"_That's where you're wrong, you took on too possibly very dangerous men for your friend. That alone is huge, and probably terrifying. Now you're putting yourself aside once again because you're afraid for her. But you need to care for yourself, Demon. So, are YOU okay?"_

There was silence while Angel waited for his response, but it didn't come. _"Demon?" _he asked again, his voice sounding a little more worried. The only thing he heard before Dean snapped his phone shut was a choked sob, and the line went dead. He slid to the ground, hugging his knees into his still aching chest. His throat was burning, and his vision was blurred with tears. There, alone in the dark he cried for the first time in a long time. The boy who was taught to suck in his gut and deal with life had finally broken, and all because someone had actually asked him if he was alright.

All his life, he had been the one protecting everyone else. It was one thing someone in passing asking "how are you doing?", it was another thing entirely when someone asked with that level of intensity. With actual genuine concern in the voice. He choked, stifling another sob, and wiped the tears from his eyes. This was pathetic, but he needed it. He was actually genuinely feeling. And although he couldn't say it out loud, it hurt for him to admit that no… he was _not _okay.


	9. A Conversation

**Chapter Eight**

Jo shifted in his arms, waking him up again. Orange morning light caught the dust hovering in the air, and somehow, despite everything there was a calmness to the atmosphere. She stretched and rolled onto her back, big eyes staring up at him. He forced himself not to focus on the dark circle of a bruise under one of her eyes.

"So you're roommate's a douchebag, we've established that," Jo said, with a grin. Dean's sleep-filled eyes shot to Michael's bed which had thankfully been vacated already. "Who do you hang about with here?"

Dean shrugged, and this just made Jo frown, "Girlfriend then?"

"Nope."

"What? Come on, I know you – you have to have _someone_. Are you trying to tell me the only person you have in your life right now is that dick-brain?" she said sharply, jerking her thumb towards Michael's side of the room.

Jo sat up, twisting and turning until she was on her knees, looking him in the eye. He crossed his arms, looking distinctly uncomfortable, certain she was going to start some horrible interrogation, but he looked away and muttered, "I do have a friend, alright."

Jo's face screwed up, her nose wrinkling a little, as if she didn't believe him, "what's their name?"

"I… don't know."

"Oh, so you're some weird-ass stalker now? That's a whole new low, even for y-"

"No, I mean I don't know his real name, he has this radio show, I mean it was a pirate radio show, so he just went by 'Angel', but then he got an official slot on the university station, and I talk to him sometimes, and we're friends," Dean's words started to run together, and he couldn't quite bring himself to look back up at Jo's expression.

"So your only friend, you've never met, you don't know what they look like, or their real name?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

"Then you're not really friends."

Dean frowned, finally looking up, "fuck you, Jo. None of that shit matters. He's there for me when I need to talk, and you know what – sometimes it's easier to unload when they don't know anything except what you tell them."

She looked a little annoyed at first but her expression softened, "I'm sorry I haven't been here for you Dean," she said gently. "I promise I'll be here from now on."

"Jo-…"

"No, I'm sorry, but I'm glad you have him, Angel, whatever," she smiled a little, "you actually sound like you care about him."

"Yeah, I do, he's the closest thing I have to a friend in this hell-hole."

Jo cocked her head to one side, and her smile grew, "I meant more than that."

"What?" Dean snapped incredulously.

"You've thought about it, I know you have," Jo said, apparently seeing something in Dean's face that he didn't know was there.

"Thanks, Jo, but I'm straight," Dean deadpanned.

"Alright, but you've had this one solid, constant in your life for the past few months, and nothing else to rely on, it would be totally normal if you did develop feelings for him."

"It would?" he said, before he even realised the words had tumbled out of his mouth. Jo raised an eyebrow as if to say '_I knew it_' but she didn't say it aloud, knowing Dean too well to do such a thing. Dean sighed despairingly, dropping his guard for the first time in a long time, "what if I did?"

Jo rolled that around in her head for a moment, lips pursing and little wrinkles appearing around her nose – but there wasn't even an essence of judging. This was what he missed about her, she took everything at face value, and didn't let anything he said make her think differently of him. Never. That was what he was constantly afraid of here, what held him back from meeting new people when he got to KU. What would they think of him? Some small-town mechanic's son, not quite that smart, but still not exactly dumb. He had _just _made the grade to get on his course, he felt like he didn't belong here, like he had taken the spot from someone who actually deserved it.

"You should tell him."

"What?" Dean said, sharper than he had meant to when he was snapped from his little daydream by Jo's apparent insanity.

"What harm can come from it, if it's all anonymous. He doesn't know you either, right?" She reasoned.

"Well, yeah – but there's plenty of harm can come from it. I could lose the only good thing I have here."

"And what if you gained an even better thing from it?"

"Well… I," it was Dean's turn to pause and consider, thinking about what it would be like to actually meet this guy, to maybe try to be with him. He shook his head violently, pushing himself into a better sitting position, "no, no way. I couldn't be with a guy. I've never even looked at a guy that way before. I wouldn't know what the hell to do, I don't even think I would want to."

Jo rolled her eyes, "we're not talking about _any guy _here," she said as if he was a four year old, "we're talking about this guy, the little Angel on your shoulder. You think people can't fall in love with someone, just one person who breaks all the silly little rules they were brought up on?" she asked, wriggling her fingers at either side of her head. He supposed that was her way of belittling the morals John and Mary had raised him with. "You could spend your whole life being straight, and you could fall in love with someone the same gender as yourself and still be straight, you would only have to have feelings for this one person. Who gives a shit what's dangling between their legs? It's what's in _here _that counts, doofus," she said, prodding a finger at his forehead with a goofy smile on her face.

Dean swallowed hard, that was a lot to take in, but it sounded somewhat logical. It did ease some of his worries about the feelings he'd been burying about Angel, "I guess you're right."

"Of course I am," she said proudly, crossing her arms and leaning back from poking a hole in his head. "So are you gonna call him?"

"He only takes calls on his late night, Friday slot," Dean said casually without even thinking.

Jo raised an eyebrow, "of course he does."

He shrugged, "shut up, it gives me time to think about all of your batshit crazy theories anyway."

He stood and started to head to the bathroom, Jo made a noise and quickly said, "I'm sorry!" He frowned at her with question, but he didn't even need to ask once he caught sight of himself in the mirror.

"Shit…" he mumbled. He could have happily forgotten about all of the junk that went down yesterday, let it just become some vague dream, if he could have just avoided mirrors for the next few weeks. His face was pretty bashed in, horrible bruises blooming on his cheekbones, eyes dark and a little puffy; his knuckles looked like shit too now that he examined them, little criss-crosses of plasters across them – Jo's handiwork. He almost didn't want to get undressed just so he wouldn't have to see how messed up his body looked.

"I could… cover that up with make-up you know," Jo said timidly.

"Ohohoho, no – you _may _be starting to convince me this gay feelings stuff is okay – but I am not going to turn into some damn cross-dresser."


	10. A Dilemma

**AN: You guys, water you doing to me? All of your comments and reviews are like GIVING ME ALL OF THESE FEELINGS. And people like Becca who text me and message me on Tumblr basically telling me if I don't update they will disown me and steal my firstborn as a sacrifice. You don't even know guys, you don't even know. I've also been told to write longer chapters, but idk. I just type until it feels right. So I start and finish without it feeling like a beginning or an end. BUT ANYWAY. Enjoy this.**

**And also I should warn there's some porn-things in this chapter, but probably not what you'd expect. Also things that may sound like homophobia - BUT I AM SO NOT HOMOPHOBIC AND DON'T MEAN ANY OFFENCE. okay. You may begin now. Love you guys 3**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Nine<strong>

He was right, after Jo left – properly escorted to the Bus Station – on Sunday night, he had the rest of the week to think about what she had told him. Jo had a way of being able to explain things to him that meant she could convince him of anything. She could literally argue one side and make him a believer and then argue the other side a second later and have him trailing after without a thought for what she had said before.

He had five days of listening to Angel's show, and getting bogged under the amount of work he had to do now that they were coming up to the holidays and projects were due in. The weather had turned hard the past few weeks, and that made giving Michael and his girlfriend "personal time" a tad more difficult. The theatres only stayed open so long, and the coffee shops and libraries – everything eventually closed until the town was dead. It was Thursday the next time Michael oh-so-sweetly told him to get the fuck out. He was fully booted up, scarf, gloves, hat – the works; just in an effort to keep himself from freezing as the temperature steadily dropped while he was walking the streets, just thinking.

His resolve on the Angel situation was becoming clearer; he knew what he had to do. Jo was right – he had spent too long moping around and being this sad, lonely shadow of his old self. Being able to see this new Dean through an old friends eyes just showed him how broken he had become. It was a hard thing to see, and he didn't like it. He wanted to do something about it – and if regaining his happiness meant jumping headfirst into something so different that it scared the hell outta him, it might be worth it. He couldn't be sure how Angel felt about him, maybe he had just turned into more of an agony-aunt than the friend Dean considered him. Maybe he didn't enjoy his calls and merely tolerated them; but through all of his insecurities on the topic, Dean truly believed there was more.

For him there was at least, he was starting to recognise the obvious signs that were staring him in the face this entire time. The way his heart sped up when he knew Angel's show would be starting soon, the tightness in his chest when he heard that gravelly voice, the way that no matter how often they spoke, every time Angel greeted him, his palms grew clammy and his throat dried up. He didn't know exactly how this stranger had gotten him this much under his power, but he didn't regret it one bit. He yearned for him so deeply that he didn't care how long it took, or what he would have to do, he just _knew _that one day they would meet. And with his confidence building, knowing that Angel had become too big a part of his life to just keep wishing, he told himself that tomorrow, during the call-show, he would spill his guts and let the chips fall where they may. In a sense Jo was right about that too – even if he was shot down, the anonymity would save him. It would never be quite as embarrassing as if he did it in person, and he can't be seen as chickenshit for not doing it that way, because he doesn't have an alternative. And even if it didn't work out, he could still listen to the show, he would still have the company, without awkwardness or tension.

That had to be another plus-side of this kind of relationship.

But all of that would change if this did work out. What if Angel returned the feelings, and came into his life, and told him his real name, and wanted to be more than friends? What if he didn't live up to Dean's high expectations? Because, let's be honest, the Mechanic's son had put him on a pretty grand pedestal. It was hard to match up to that. But Dean had faith, he knew Angel was a pretty spectacular person. He prided himself on his ability to aptly judge characters and he thought to himself that he wouldn't have let himself invest so much in this guy if he was really just being desperate all this time that led to his obsession with Angel.

Anticipating such a decision earlier in the week, he had spent more than a few hours earnestly Googling things such as _"How to be Gay" _and _"How to be in a relationship with a guy" _and even _"How to confess your feelings to a guy without sounding Gay"_. He can admit now that maybe he went a little overboard with it all. The low point of that day was the search for gay porn, just so he could be prepared. Needless to say, he didn't exactly know many websites which catered to that specific need so he ended up sticking to good old RedTube. He didn't make it more than a minute into the first video.

So he decided maybe sticking with the feelings side of it all is enough of a hurdle for now.

He shivered hard, he hadn't gotten a snide text from Michael telling him he could safely return without being scarred for life, but he figured since he usually did get one around this time he must've just fallen asleep, and by the time he got back to the room the danger will have cleared. So Dean turned around and headed back to campus, because it was getting far too cold for him to competently handle anymore.

He was more than appreciative of the heat when he finally got indoors, taking the two flights of stairs up to his floor, he checked his phone one last time before cautiously approaching his door. He figured if they were still in here he could just hang out in the corridor, and at least he wouldn't catch hypothermia. Pressing his ear against the door, he couldn't hear anything though, and he concluded that Michael had just fallen asleep. He'd done it before; Dean even swore that he did it on purpose more than a few times.

Turning his key in the lock as quietly as possible – not wanting to have to deal with Michael's bullshit when he was still on a high from his revelation – he opened the door. And stood in shock at what was before him. Michael was standing there, head thrown back in ecstasy while he was being sucked off. But not by the girlfriend Dean had assumed this whole time, by a guy.

Dean must have gasped or said something without noticing because suddenly Michael's head snapped up, looking straight in his direction with a mix of rage and shock, he shoved the guy away and tried to cover himself. The gruff, fucked-out voice of the man came sharply, "hey, what the fuck, man!" Dean had started to back out of the door again when he turned around. And he recognised him. He fucking _recognised _this guy who had had his lips wrapped around his roommates cock.

"Cas?" he asked, his voice coloured with disbelief. The man stared back at him, apparently struck silent, but something hit Dean, and it was choking him, suffocating him, because there was something here he wasn't seeing. He swallowed down whatever was rising in his throat and making him feel like he was going to throw up, his jaw was set firm but he swore he was practically vibrating. "Say that again," he said, his voice steely and so devoid of any emotion, and yet it was nearly shaking with rage.

"Wait, what the fuck? You two _know_ eachother?" Michael interjected, but he was ignored.

"Say that again," Dean repeated, louder and much more violently, his voice ripping at his throat.

Cas was just staring at Dean like a fucking deer in the headlights because he realised as much as Dean had. It took him what felt like minutes to finally speak, he didn't repeat himself though, just spoke in the gravelly tone he had been hiding when they first met, "I'm so sorry."

And that was all it took, because Dean's eyes were hot and prickling with tears and he refused to be seen like this by his dickhead roommate and the man he thought he could possibly fucking love. His throat felt like it was on fire, and he was falling. Just falling, because nothing was holding him up anymore. His head shaking side to side, mouth opening and closing before he finally managed to stammer a quiet '_no'_. He backed clumsily out of the door and stumbled in an awkward run down the corridor, practically falling down the stairs, just wanting to run and run. To get away from all of this until his lungs burned and his heart stopped pounding in his chest. He wanted to run away from those faces that were seared into his brain, and the goddamn tears they had caused that were now streaking his face.

He just wanted everything to go away.


	11. A Darkness

**AN: **Jeez you guys are the sweetest things ever. Your reviews and favourites and comments here and on Tumblr and just overwhelming. Every little thing you have to say about this story just makes it feel more real, and opens up all these other paths it could take that I hadn't even considered before. I just hope you know how grateful I am for the love I receive from you guys - and the hate ;D And sorry to anyone who hated Michael/Cas. I don't even ship it, just happened to be the character I chose to be his roommate, and where I wanted to take the plot. Broke my heart to write that though, for Dean.

Enjoy this though! And let me know what you think my lovely little Demons 3

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Ten<strong>

Dean hadn't spoken yet. He was still held up in his room. Mary and Sam were worried, John was… hard to read as usual. Maybe something Dean and John had in common. He ate when he was coaxed into it, and spent the rest of his hours on his bed, in darkness, staring at the ceiling or sleeping fitfully. It may seem like an over-reaction to some, but considering how much hope Dean had placed on Angel-

Fuck.

On _Cas_…

It was that one thing that was really bugging him, burrowing deep into his mind and rotting every good thought he had had of the man; corrupting every good memory and every conversation. The good feelings were well and truly gone. Just corpses remained, polluting his brain-space, because everything was a lie. That one thing, was that Cas must have _known_. At the very least from the time he had given Dean a ride home, that had to have sealed it. He might even have had it figured out since Dean and Jo had helped with his car, because he could have sworn mentioning it when he had talked to Angel. And yet despite this, he was still fucking around with Michael. He had been in his room so many times, fucking the guy who so tortured Dean – they guy he had _told _Angel about, and _told _him about the things he had done to Dean.

What cut Dean so damn deep was that all this time, when he had just yearned for contact from this man so much that it ached, he had only been at the other side of the room.

He knew that meant Angel had felt nothing for him. He just put up with the calls. He probably resented them. Maybe that was why he kept it up with Michael, in the hopes that one day Dean would catch them together. He probably didn't even give a shit about the guy, it was all just a ploy to fuck Dean over so bad that he ended up… well, crying in his bed back home like a little girl. He was probably laughing about it on his show right now.

"_Remember that kid Demon? Ha, yeah, you'll never guess what happened. If anyone deserves a trophy for most elaborate prank of the year – that'd be me."_

He curled his legs closer to his chest, hugging them into his body like it could stop everything and act like a barrier between himself and the world.

The first few days, he had tried to keep Angel and Cas as two separate entities; like he could protect his perfect image of Angel by considering him a different person. Unfortunately when all you can do is think, it isn't that easy. The more he lay there, and thought about everything that had happened, started to dissect every conversation he'd had with either side of the man, the harder it got, and soon the superhero and alter-ego melded into one person. One horrible, cruel person.

He forgot himself sometimes, and could hear the dusty chuckle echo through the room when he realised Angel had told him to talk to Cas, that maybe they could be friends; and that Dean had called him a weirdo. Was that enough to make the guy want to break him?

No, he couldn't rip everything apart like that, because he was only destroying himself.

He rolled onto his other side, as if it could help him get his mind away from such things. He remembered the night it had happened, he remembered running until he couldn't breathe. His lungs screaming as he doubled over, panting so hard that his throat felt like it was on fire. And yet he still couldn't get the images out of his head. This whole town was tainted now. Every place he had gone to give Michael and Cas space to fuck, or whatever the hell they did, he still wasn't quite sure, because he'd only gotten so far into watching that sick-fuck porn.

He couldn't stand that city, and he sure as hell couldn't stand that room. When day rolled around, he was the first person into the Helpzone, he was sure he looked ragged and fucked-up; his face was still bruised and cut up from the fight, and he hadn't slept, had been crying… but he still slammed his hand on the desk and told them in a quaking voice that he needed a new room, a new roommate, a new building. He couldn't even recall the whole conversation with the girl, just that it had gotten a little heated, and she had started to get that face that said "maybe you should see someone", and was he _fuck _going to sit down with some school therapist.

"The best I can do is put you on the waiting-list."

He remembers forms. He remembers the bus-station. He remembers his bed.

No one had tried to ask him what was wrong after the first day. Mary and Sam sat with him sometimes, she cooed over him and sang to him – familiar lullabies that just brought him to tears, because he knew he was making Mary worried and he was hurting her, and she was just humming 'Hey Jude' and trying her best to keep him safe. Sam was silent sometimes, just offering company; other times he talked relentlessly about his day or something he had read, or this funny thing Ash had done earlier – what he really appreciated was when Sam just curled up beside him. It was the first time in a long time he hadn't felt bottomless and alone. He didn't realise how much he missed the twerp since he'd been gone.

He had been home a week and a half before Jo knocked softly on his door and stepped inside. He didn't move to look up at her, he could just tell by the knock and by the way she walked, and of course by the sound of her voice.

"What the fuck, Dean," blunt as always.

Dean's head rose slowly, looking up at Jo with a grimace.

She had her hands on her hips, but there was a soft look on her face, she gradually dropped the pose to come sit on the bed with Dean, who had pulled himself up into a sort of upright position which was the closest he had come to sitting straight in days. "What happened? And why the hell didn't you tell me you were here?"

"Don't take it personal, I haven't exactly been in contact with anyone," he said, his voice raspy from not having spoken.

"Yeah, I'll say," she said as if he was a goddamn idiot. "Why aren't you at Uni?"

He shrugged, "I took a few days off, and I'm on break for Thanksgiving now."

She looked him up and down harshly, like she had laser-eyes that could see into his soul. It made him feel oddly naked, and he stole a look at himself just to make sure he wasn't. He almost groaned when he saw the 'I wuv hugs' t-shirt Mary must have put him into to wash his clothes. He supposed it made sense, most of this things would be back at KU. "What happened?" she asked, the question sounding demanding, but the tone gentle.

"He was fucking Michael," he said candidly, it should have stung to say it out loud, but he was a little jaded right then. He thought it felt good to say it too though, because Jo was the only one who knew it all, and the only one who he could talk to.

She knew what he was referring to immediately, "are you kidding me?" she said in disbelief. "How the… what?"

He chuckled darkly, "I walked in on them… guess I recognised his voice."

She shook her head and didn't say anything for a second, "explains a lot," she mumbled to herself.

Dean broke into a deep frown though, leaning forward a little, "what does?"

She looked him in the eyes, ripe with guilt, shoulders rising in a shrug but never falling as if she could sink her head down into her gut and never have to explain herself, "I… sorta started listening to his show, after you told me about him. I wanted to get a low-down on the guy my jerk of a friend though he loved."

"You _what?"_

"He… he's gone a bit weird, Dean."

His rage fizzled out and he couldn't stop his head cocking slightly with curiosity. She was shifting uncomfortably, as if she wasn't sure if she should tell him these things, "Jo." He said, and although it was just a word, just her name, it had so much in it that it made her sit straight and stop fidgeting.

"The call-show, well… he was all quiet and played more tracks than anything – which I guess he doesn't do often on the late slot, right? Because some people called in and asked where Demon was, I assume that's you, and he just cut them off and played a track. So no one called in for the rest of the show – or he didn't let them on the air, I don't know."

Dean's frown only deepened, he couldn't quite figure that out. Before he could try, Jo was continuing.

"He started dedicating tracks to 'his little Demon'," and she waggled her fingers theatrically in the air as quotation marks, and he had to admit, through his numbness, he felt his stomach lurch at the phrase. "sad fucking songs, Dean," she shrugged, "though he has your damn taste in music. Either that or he must have been playing songs you suggested?" she shook her head dismissively, blond bangs whirling around her face, "I don't know, I haven't been listening that long, so I don't know if this is relevant. But on Thursday's show, he just, he was only on for a few minutes and he just said '_I'm sorry, Demon'_, and cut off, and just '_bzzt'_,radio silence."

Her Angel impression and sound-effects aside… he couldn't quite put his finger on what was going on. If he was so guilty about this whole damn thing, why had he kept it up on the first place? And why did he suddenly seem to care now? It didn't make sense. What if this was just stage two of the prank – gain his trust back and then shatter him even further? Thanks, but no thanks.

Jo's expression was laced with worry as she leaned towards him and put one of her soft hands on his cheek, "Dean, just promise me you won't stay here much longer. You need to go out and get some fresh air. Go work with your dad, just take your mind off this. You're only hurting yourself, and you need to be able to go back after the holidays. You can't give up your future for this, even if it hurts now, you have to know it'll get better."

And maybe it was the contact, or the sincerity of her words, but something got through to him, "okay," he nodded and she stared him in the eye long enough to determine whatever she needed to see was there.

"I have to go, but next time I come over, I better see you somewhere other than in this damn bed in the dark."

He nodded again, and she finally pulled away and left.

* * *

><p>Everyone was surprised when he got out of bed, and got dressed in real clothes two days later. When he went downstairs where Mary was making breakfast and Sam was hunched over a bowl of cereal, buried in a book. He hadn't even noticed how big his kid brother was getting, it was terrifying. They all hid their surprise pretty well though, acting like it was normal to have him there, but he could see the warm smile on his mother's face, and the intense heat that came from her tiny hand on his shoulder as she placed a stack of pancakes in front of him.<p>

"Thanks, mom."

He spent that day working with his Dad at the Garage, 'Winchester Roadhouse Repairs'. He always sought refuge under the hood. Cars were easy. John gave him simple jobs the first few days, making sure he could handle it before he got back into the swing of things. He realised then that as much time as he had spent telling himself he didn't want to be stuck in this workshop when Sammy was off to college to become a doctor or a lawyer or something amazing; he could never deny that this would always be where he felt most at home.

It was easy, it required just enough brain-power to keep Angel and Cas and Michael off his mind, and yet let him relax and just be happy. He didn't have to try too hard, he was a simple being with simple pleasures. Give him tools, grease and a broken car and he was in heaven.

"Dean, up front – oil change," John called and he obediently dropped what he was doing, wiping his black-coated hands on an old rag as he headed outside to the front of the shop.

Four days. He had had four days of peace in the Garage; apparently that was all the cosmos would allow him before they sucked him back in for another round.

A familiar car was parked out front, a guy leaning against it with his back to Dean, but it was unmistakable. His stomach lurched, a really horrible feeling in his gut as he stepped slowly closer, "can I help you?" but his heart wasn't in it. His voice was dead again, emotionless.

Cas turned around, stark blue eyes striking Dean first before he noticed the tight clench of his jaw and the uncertainty in his posture. Dean couldn't help but just stop in his tracks, a few paces away from Cas and his car. His head shook slowly, small movements, side to side. He didn't want this guy here, not when he was just starting to feel good again. He had his brother, and Jo, and the garage, and Mary and John – and now this son of a bitch was here to take that away too. He refused. He turned away and started to walk back inside.

"Dean, wait."

That voice. That fucking voice. He stopped, fists clenched tight, eyes squeezed shut. "Get out of here, Cas."

Silence… then, "please, Dean. Just hear me out."

He couldn't say anything, because as much as he hated it, as much as he despisedthat man right then, if he thought his voice had a strong effect on him though a speaker, it was ten times worse in real life.

"Just an oil change, and then I'll go."


	12. Another Conversation

**AN: I'm not sure about this chapter. I must've went over it twenty times, but I'm still not sure of it. But it's here now, so I hope you enjoy it if you can haha**

**And as always, I appreciate the _hell _out of your reviews, seriously, thank-you.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Eleven<strong>

Dean unscrewed the valve on the bottom of the oil tank, jerking back so he didn't get covered in dirty oil as it came spilling out into the bucket he'd placed underneath. He'd had to drive Cas' car onto the only free ramp outside so he would have access to the underneath. That alone had been hell, just the man's over-powering scent in the car had smothered him, and made him feel like he was drowning. He was experiencing all of these elements of Angel which he had wanted to for so long, but in all of the wrong ways now. He was teaching himself to hate these things; his smell, his dark ruffled hair, his starkly contrasting blue eyes… He didn't want to hate them, but he couldn't let himself love them.

He started unscrewing the filter, moving back almost as quickly to let the oil spill out. He would have to wait for the tank to empty completely now, and that gave him more time listening to Cas than he ideally wanted. His hands were black with grease and now coated in oil, he should clean them, give him a reason to keep busy while they waited.

He had been enjoying the shelter the ramp was giving him from Cas, he wouldn't have to look at him; wouldn't have to stop himself from staring into those deep, blue orbs, or wonder how his hair got so messy or how he kept his skin so porcelain pale in Kansas.

"I know what I did was wrong, Dean, you just have to know why," he said, somewhat timidly. He had his hands shoved in his pockets, which distracted Dean; he had been right when he called the kid weird, he was wearing a full-sleeved button-down shirt and trousers, while Dean was slick with sweat in the hot sun with only a t-shirt and old jeans on. He guessed the guy mustn't do a lot of manual labour, and that explained the pale skin. But it just led him to wonder how soft his skin was. "You're not stupid, I know you've worked out that I knew about you for a while…" Dean couldn't look at him, he pulled the rag he had been carrying out of his back pocket and started scrubbing his hands with it, not sure if it was making him cleaner or dirtier.

"You know Michael," he said after a long pause which was probably him trying to decide where to start. Dean shot him a hard look which made Cas look down immediately, because they both knew Dean had had a hard time with his roommate. "He's charming when he wants to be, and he was at the start." He was fumbling in his pockets for something, bringing a box to his lips, pressing a cigarette between them.

Without even thinking Dean said, "you can't light that here."

Cas chuckled a little hollowly, looking around him. Yeah that was a safe bet, light a cigarette when you're surrounded by oil and fuel and about a hundred other flammable materials. He put the box back into his pocket, but kept the cigarette out, rolling it between his fingers as if it still gave him some comfort, but he looked at Dean apologetically, in a way that under different circumstances may have turned him into a puddle. He looked back at the tank, but it was still emptying, less than a drizzle now.

"You might not know, because you probably don't talk to many people about him around campus, but he's pretty well known – the staff loves him and the students… well they either hate him or they're afraid of him. He has a lot of power, and as much as I rejected him when he started his come-on attempts, he always gets what he wants," he laughed a little bitterly before he continued, "I thought I could use him, because he doesn't exactly advertise the fact that he likes guys, on the side at least. If I could blackmail him, his resources could become mine."

Dean frowned, he hadn't taken Cas as being such an opportunist – the kind who would suck any cock to get to the top. He started walking towards the main building, to get Oil and a new filter; and after a moment's hesitation, Cas followed after him. Lowering his voice somewhat, when he was in earshot of the other employees of his father's Garage.

"It back-fired though; Michael ended up with more of a hold over me than I ever could of him, once he found out what I was planning," he was shaking his head a little as Dean tried his best to keep his eyes on getting everything he needed, trying not to look at Cas and see the hurt on his face as he brought evidently horrible memories back to the surface for Dean's benefit. "He knocked me around a bit, but he wouldn't let me leave. He found out stuff about me that could end up bringing a lot of trouble my way if it was exposed. And he knew about the show."

That gave Dean a chill. Thinking that Michael might have found out what Dean was listening to all that time if he had even asked just once when he was in a sharing mood. And what would have happened then? If he found out that his roommate was religiously listening to his boyfriend?

"When I found out who you were, I wanted to leave him… he still won't let me," he chuckled again, the throaty rasp that made him shudder. "Maybe I _know too much_," he put on a mocking voice, but Dean could tell he was only half joking as they walked back to the car.

He had started to put some fresh oil in the new filter and was screwing it in place along with the cap for the tank when Cas started again.

"He has complete control over me, Dean," he found it strange, that familiar voice calling him an unfamiliar name. He wanted to call Cas Angel as much as he wanted to be called Demon, just to give him some semblance of comfort, because he was finding this hard to hear. "He… '_punishes_' me, if I disobey."

And when Dean looked up at him, he caught a twitch of an empty smile, "I'm sorry," he said with such an empty voice that it broke Dean right there and then.

"Cas," he said, and he could see a little surprise in the other man's face because he hadn't said a word since scolding him for smoking. But he couldn't say anything else, he just looked at him. Was that why he always wore such non-revealing clothes, to cover the marks? He didn't know what to do; he was so lost that he couldn't begin to think of something to say, some way to help. But how could he hold his anger over Cas' head too when he already had so much on his plate?

He bit down on his lip so hard that he could feel that copper explosion of blood leaking into his mouth; he was being torn apart inside with so many conflicting emotions. Here was the only boy he had ever thought he could love, standing before him, apologizing for everything and confessing that he was in trouble. All of the rejection and depression was being replaced by fear and helplessness; he wasn't sure which was worse. But he realised that he was no longer being selfish, he fearedfor _Cas_, and he felt helpless when it came to doing something for him, about Michael.

He was shaking his head so slowly, Cas watching him, waiting for him to say something. But Dean had nothing to say, he just glanced sideways into the Garage to check there was no one watching, and he wrapped his arms heavy and protective around Cas. And after a moment of shock, Cas nuzzled into the crook of his neck and just gave in.

He wasn't good at getting his emotions across, and he wasn't good at comforting people; but this embrace was a release for both of them. It months of pent up confusion and loneliness for Dean, and possibly years of fear and powerlessness for Cas. They had met in the middle of all of this, and after so long of Dean using this stranger as a leaning post, he was more than prepared to let Cas do the same to him.

"We'll figure this out. I'm going to help you, Cas," Dean said so quietly, and tenderly to the man who was almost shivering in his arms. When eventually he pulled away, he could see Cas' eyes were glassy with unshed tears, cheeks a little pink.

"We can't do anything, he's all muscle and brains, I can't think my way out any more than I could fight."

_We. He said 'we'. _And even through this new heavy burden that was placed on his shoulders, Dean allowed himself that moment of sheer childish glee, and that in turn gave him some hope that they could work something out, that they could make it better.

"Don't worry, Cas, you've got _me_ now." They shared some kind of smile, that was both hopeful and somehow aware of all of the anguish and turmoil that awaited them if they tried. Dean lingered for a moment before he pulled out of Cas's personal space, lowering the ramp so he could climb up enough to get access to the oil tank under the hood.

He was pouring oil through a funnel when his curiosity got the better of him, them being in silence up until that point, "how did you find me here?" he asked, turning to look at Cas.

A grin appeared on his face, which was good to see, "you think I can hack into the university radio and not be capable of doing anything else like that?"

Dean frowned, "seems like there's a pretty big difference between bumping into a radio signal and hacking into the school computer system."

He pursed his lips for a second, and then with a look of defeat said "I rang the school pretending to be Michael and told them you'd left some of your stuff behind when you broke early for family reasons, and that I wanted your address to bring it to you."

"And that worked?"

"Did you forget the part where the school staff loves Michael?" Cas deadpanned.

"Fair enough," he said thoughtfully, turning back to the car.

"I recognised the name on the Garage from some of the stuff in your room, figured I'd give it a shot."

Removing the funnel, screwing the cap on the tank and closing the hood, "I guess I'm done." He was almost reluctant to finish at this point, considering the dark tone the conversation had started with, he was really just finding Cas' company soothing now.

"Oh," he said, almost sounding forlorn, "how much do I owe you?"

As much as he wanted to say 'oh, nothing!' he knew John would end him, and he didn't have money on him right then to pay for it himself, so he shrugged, "20 bucks outta cover it," he said with a flash of his award-winning smile. One that hadn't made an appearance in quite some time.

Cas nodded, frozen for a second before he fiddled with his wallet and handed Dean the bill. Dean accepted it hesitantly, hand lingering on it for a second when Cas didn't release his hold of it immediately. Then he climbed the ramp to back the car off it. Things grew quite suddenly intense and awkward as he handed Cas the keys and took a few hesitant steps back towards the Garage, but Cas' hand on his shoulder stopped him in his tracks, "I will see you soon," he said, and the strength of his gaze, staring straight into Dean's eyes made him feel just how real this was. He nodded, and Cas' hand slipped away.

"You've got my number from when I rang in, I'm sure," Dean said after a moment, "maybe you should call _me _some time." There was a joke in there somewhere, and he only caught the beginning of a new smile on the other man's face as he started to walk away again. After a few moments, telling himself not to look back, he heard the car start to drive, and since the car hadn't exploded yet, he figured he wasn't as distracted as it seemed he was when changed the oil.

With a renewed sense of hope, he promised himself and Cas that he would find a way to fix the Michael situation if it killed him.


	13. A Peace

**AN: Sorry this is a short one – Just been adjusting to getting back to Uni again, and starting back classes, so I wanted to put this up just to prove I ain't dead haha your response to the last bunch of chapters was overwhelming, and I still get so damn happy every time one of you comments, I don't even think you know haha Sorry this is really just a filler, but I promise the next chapter will be a bit more interesting. I just didn't want to seem like I was skipping his relationship with Sam, because obviously it's one of the most important in the show. **

**SO YES, ENJOY~**

**Chapter Twelve**

Thanksgiving morning, Sam was sitting on the edge of Dean's bed. But it was different after his encounter with Cas, he wasn't curled up and distant from the world. He was smiling and talking back, and he was feeling a little more alive with every day. Dean slowly realised that he couldn't hold any of this against Cas, it wasn't like the man had any idea about his feelings for him – how could he when Dean wasn't even entirely certain about them.

"You look happier," Sam observed with a leftover smile from the hilarious anecdote he'd taken great joy in relaying to Dean. Not that the older Winchester even fully understood with the lack of context but he was always just happy to see Sam smile. "It's good to see you being yourself again."

His little brother, fourteen years old, was more adept to Dean's feelings than he himself was. He smiled and nodded, "It's good to feel like myself again."

"I've missed you, Dean," he said, head tilting to one side, eyes squinting slightly, as if he was embarrassed to be saying something like that. He was a lot more like Mary when it came to expressing deeper thoughts and emotions, but Dean knew that he always felt a little hesitant in bringing such opinions up around himself or John because he was aware that they weren't quite as evolved as him in that department.

Dean's eyes wrinkled as his smile deepened, a genuine smile, not something he would have to fake. His hand ruffled Sam's hair affectionately, it was really getting out of control, the kid needed to get it chopped off. "I missed you too, Sammy," he managed, "hey, why don't we hang out today, just me and you? We'll take the car and go see a movie or something?"

Sam stared at Dean as if he had two heads, "but it's Thanksgiving."

"Not until the Turkey's done, we can disappear for a few hours, come on – there's bound to be something crappy showing, I'll get the popcorn."

Sam bit his lip a little, but Dean already knew what the answer would be, even before his little head bobbed up and down and he grinned again.

* * *

><p>They picked up and caught a cheesy film that they could laugh at and make fun of, in a practically empty theatre, without being shh'd or given dirty looks. Dean loved Sam more than he loved anyone, more than he could ever even consider caring about Angel or anyone else for that matter. Even when he was an absolute pain in the neck, he was proud that such a smart little kid was his baby brother, and he would do anything for him – no questions asked. It took coming back home for him to realise that it was probably their separation that contributed a lot to his near-depression. And the fact that he didn't want to tell Sam horror stories of his experience at University to put him off going, didn't help at all.<p>

It was a lot more fulfilling than he expected to be spending time with his brother alone again, like without even trying he was filling all of the cracks that had been spreading through him over the last few months. And he put off the idea of having to leave him again after the holidays.

Mary must've liked the idea of them getting to hang out again too, because she didn't even put up a fight, practically shooed them into the car giving them money for the tickets; however John was proud of his wives cooking and his attempt at the stuffing and he threw Dean a look when they got back a little later than expected.

"I'm thankful for my family, for Sammy, and for my friends," Dean said sincerely, dropping his guard long enough to let everyone know he wasn't being generic, and really wanted them to know that he loved them all. And they all seemed to see that.

It was only two days after Thanksgiving that he was due back at KU, and being dropped off there again by his whole family was ripping at the stitches of his heartbreak. He tried not to think of it, how teary-eyed they were all over again from seeing him go. He promised to drop by any weekend he wasn't busy – and that was a promise he intended to keep. He felt like he needed to see them more than they needed him. That wasn't something he could easily admit out loud, but he was feeling braver now, because he knew his limits. He knew it was stupid of him to try to strike out alone and try to stand apart from his family for the first few months; he really did need them.

He was determined to befriend _someone _here, even if that meant hanging out in the corridors of his flat until someone came out so he could 'accidentally' bump into them. He wasn't quite sure if he could talk to people in his class yet, he would build up to that.

Unfortunately, he had yet to be transferred from Michael's room. He hoped more than anything that his roommate would want to avoid him as much as Dean wanted to avoid Michael. He didn't know what he would do when he laid eyes on him – be disgusted at what he had seen him do, or angry at what he had been doing to Cas. He just didn't want to think about it, but he knew that once they bumped into each other again – and let's face it, living together it was going to happen eventually – some emotion would strike him hot in one direction or another. He would just rather be at peace for just a little while longer before he had to find that out.

But of course, with Dean, he was never that lucky.


	14. A Change

**AN: You guys are amazing, jsyk. I know I say this junk every time I upload a chapter, but I just need you to know how much I appreciate your continued support 3 I love you all!**

**Chapter Thirteen**

Dean had barely made it through the door before Michael said, "so you're back." He was propped up on his bed with a book, dark brows draw together, giving him an intense expression. Dean didn't quite know what his emotions were doing when he laid eyes on his roommate for the first time in weeks, and he couldn't quite get the image of his head thrown back in ecstasy out of his mind. He was disgusted, and he was angry for what he had been doing to Cas, for the fear he had brought to his friend – but because of that newfound knowledge he was also a little more cautious of him. He now knew what Michael was capable of, and suddenly didn't feel so comfortable talking back or throwing him dirty looks. It was that feeling which stopped him from acting on the anger which was painting him ugly on the inside at that moment.

"I'm back," he replied, shrugging slightly and throwing his bag onto his bed. He couldn't quite act normal though, he didn't know what he should be doing after what had happened the last time they'd seen each other.

Michael moved so silently that Dean had hardly any time to register the presence of the man just a step behind him, before he had started talking and he span around to face him when he spoke, startled, "this should go without saying, but what you saw here – it didn't happen."

Dean took a breath before he answered, unable to return Michael's gaze, just staring at the ground just behind him, "as far as I'm concerned it didn't," he said huskily, "I'd really rather not think about it."

"Good."

Dean turned away when Michael seemed to stop vibrating rays of power and hate, starting to unpack just so he would have something to do, "I'll be out of your hair soon anyway," he mumbled.

"Excuse me?" Michael said a little sharply, having turned to return to his bed but stopping now.

"I filed for a room transfer," Dean said slowly, turning his head just enough to catch Michael's expression change to something more poisonous.

"What?" he said, his voice like a razor now.

"What's the problem? I thought you'd be happy."

Dean turned back fully again now, and Michael was staring at him as if he was a damn idiot. He hated that. "How do you think that makes _me _look?"

Dean couldn't stop himself from rolling his eyes, "seriously? Just relax, okay, I said it was my problem, that we hadn't as much in common as I'd hoped and I would rather be with someone on a similar course."

Michael's glare simmered slightly, but he didn't say anything.

Dean just turned back to his bag, starting to take things out, he hadn't much with him because he had left most of it here when he ran for home. "I was hoping to be gone already, to be honest."

The sudden change in Michael always shocked Dean, his voice was almost like velvet now as it poured into Dean's ears, "you should have said, you know I could find a way to slip you to the top of the list," he said. Sweet like honey. Was this the side that he had used to convince Cas to stay with him for long enough to sink his hooks in?

He couldn't imagine it, not even this fake, sugar-coated version of the man would be enough to convince him. It would take a hell of a lot more than that. He could see through it so easily, so why hadn't Cas?

He sucked in a breath, already hating himself, but he turned once more, Michael much closer than he had thought, he tried to keep his words steady but he couldn't help but despise himself for saying them in the first place, "Michael, could you help me get a new room?"

A sickening smile spread across his face, "I'd love to help you, Dean." If he had something sharp in hand he'd love to ram it into Michael's chest right then, "it's my pleasure."

"Thank-you," he said through gritted teeth. The returning smirk from Michael contained something that made Dean uncomfortable for reasons he couldn't quite put his finger on right then, his brow furrowed with uncertainty as he turned back to his bag, putting all of his concentration on it.

* * *

><p>It wasn't surprising that only three days later, Dean got a call from the office telling him that another room had become available, one with who they considered to be a more adequate roommate for him. Of course he took it and didn't look back. Escaping Michael would be his first real victory, and his first step in building himself back up to the person he once was, or maybe even better than before.<p>

He couldn't imagine any roommate being worse than Michael, so anyone would be an improvement. If he was lucky, he might get someone sane, and cool – someone he could just be friends with.

Of course, considering who was behind his sudden transfer, he didn't exactly get the cream of the crop. The man he was with now was a mix of 'seems like a nice enough guy' and 'quite possibly unstable'. Dean had a key, but he felt somewhat obliged to knock when he got to the new room, his fist thumped the door of room 202 a few times before someone answered it. He was met with panicked eyes and a mess of brown hair, the guy seemingly wearing a bathrobe and PJs stood hesitantly between the small gap, staring at him.

Dean raised an eyebrow, "I'm your new roommate," he said after a moment, "Dean." He shrugged his bag further onto his shoulder, and offered a hand but the other guy didn't take it. He frowned a second before something seemed to click in his head and Dean wondered how many different types of medication he was on. The guy stood aside and let him in, rucksack over his shoulder and a suitcase trailing after him. All of his worldly possessions shoved into two bags. Dean eyed him suspiciously as he made his way past to the empty bed. One side of the room was utterly filthy; a mess of books and papers, magazines, bottles, food and clothes.

He threw his stuff onto the bed. Okay so he was a bit of a pig, and he creeped Dean out, but he had to be better than Michael, right? The man made a noise and seemed to remember some semblance of manners, one hand crossed his stomach clutching his own waist, the other hand extended just a bit, "I'm Chuck, by the way."


	15. A Promise

**AN: Again, thanks for all of the kind words, and hellooo to all of the new readers~ You guys get me up in the morning, when I would quite like to roll over and go back to sleep haha **

**If anyone's on Tumblr, AotR also has it's own blog now which you can find at: Angel-on-the-radio .tumblr .com**** which will have music and odd bits and pieces to go along with the story posted on it. If any of you enjoy a bit of doodling you can submit art, or maybe write your own little ficlets on the AU haha**

**Yeah, anyhoo, enjoy!**

**Chapter Fourteen**

Sometimes he couldn't help but feel a little claustrophobic. He lay awake at night thinking that he just couldn't fill his lungs with air, that they would never fill up. He would wake up the next morning after only a few hours of sleep and realise it was probably an anxiety attack. He would wonder why he had felt like that, was it because he felt trapped in this same room – only getting to escape when he had classes, and that was just another room – or maybe he was afraid that he wasn't living up to his family's expectations. Mostly he wondered if it was Cas.

He kept telling himself that he wasn't hurt by what was happening, that he shouldn't be allowed to feel angry about what he had seen, and the secrets which Angel had been keeping from him; but that didn't change what he was _really _feeling. Deep down it was always there, seeds of betrayal and pain. He couldn't picture the man's face without thinking that, and more than anything that hurt. He wanted to scrub his thoughts and feelings clean and just appreciate whatever he had. He wanted to be there for Cas like he had been there for him – even if it had been false. What Angel had given him was the best that he could at that time.

He couldn't push away all of the bad things, he couldn't give Cas the clean slate that he wanted to give; but he would do the best he could. He would do what he was always taught to and push the feelings away, sweep them under the rug until they became so numb that he could forget. Maybe it wasn't healthy, but it was what he knew; and what he had always done. Letting emotions get the better of him hadn't worked out for the first few months, so he would just have to give up on that approach, it didn't work for Dean – it wasn't the Winchester way.

Sometimes Dean would sit at his desk, and just stare out of the window. There was a subtle beauty in the cold, saturated world as winter rolled around. Sure it might not be as obvious in Kansas as it might be in England or Greenland or whatever, but it was obvious to him. He could see it, so clearly, and it brought him peace that he couldn't quite understand. The stillness in the air helped him to concentrate. He could just stare for hours at the world. It wasn't something he often gave himself the opportunity to do, but there was something about nature and just appreciating the world that let him forget about himself and make it all seem insignificant once he could see the bigger picture. When he could see the world outside his window, it let him think about how small he really was, and how minute his problems were – he realised how easily people can get caught up in these things when there was so much worse out there, and space for so much better.

But that peace was only temporary. When he turned away again, it came back, trickling in and filling him up like a hole in the dam. He could stick his finger in and try to forget, but it was always there, and it was holding him back from everything else. So he just had to let all of the worries flow back into him, and just enjoy the moments of peace he could get before he started to sink again.

The nights were always the worst.

He doesn't want to seem selfish, because he knows what Cas is going through is so much worse than what he is. But somehow that doesn't lessen the burden. Sure, his problems are lesser, but does that make them more insignificant. And now he's lost his wall, he can't lean against Angel anymore because he has to be strong for Cas. How could he have known that in finally finding the person he had longed for for so long, he's now become more alone than ever?

"_It's good to hear your voice little Demon."_

"Sorry I left you alone for so long," Dean smiled into his phone.

"_It's not your place to be sorry."_

"Doesn't change the fact that I am."

"_Alright, Demon, alright," _he could hear him smiling, if that was possible. But after all of this time, he could just tell the nature of every pause, every hesitation. And now he had a face to put to the voice – but all he could picture were that intense blue gaze and dark ruffle of hair.

"I hope you ain't been annoying the hell outta everyone with soppy love songs while I was gone, I know you musta missed me," Dean said with a smirk. He was relieved more than anything, that same buzz of nerves and excitement was fizzling in his stomach, but it wasn't awkward between them. Not like he thought it would after the anonymity had evaporated. But the game was still in place, he was Demon, and Cas was Angel. And it was just like it always was.

"_I'm afraid you might be right, there," _he said with a hint of embarrassment. _"I hope they'll forgive me."_

"You're definitely gonna have to make it up to everyone, if you keep playing depressing songs about lost love and broken hearts I can guarantee you'll lose at least one listener for good."

"_Ha, don't pretend you'd ever leave me permanently."_

Dean hesitated for a second, but when he spoke again his voice came more seriously than he expect it to, "no, you're right. I wouldn't ever leave you."

* * *

><p>Chuck was slumped on his bed, empty bottle in hand. Maybe he had struck it lucky if he had finally found a roommate who wouldn't hang him out for drinking or breaking any minor policy the University had. There wasn't any such thing as a dry campus, not really. There was always a way.<p>

The guy seemed to spend a lot of time strung out, he occasionally complained about a pounding headache or migraine, and just seemed to try and drink it away. Seemed like a viscous cycle to Dean, maybe it was a hair of the dog thing, or maybe he really was just drowning the pain – but either way, it worked out well for him. Chuck's basic non-existence and (by the power of almighty heaven) him being not only a light-weight but a sleepy drunk, meant that he could talk to Angel and listen to the radio in peace without worrying about being overheard. He was finally free of the pressure of having Michael hovering over his shoulder at every turn.

The only downside when it came to Chuck was the combination of the mess and the smell. It was hard to tell with the way he dressed and acted, but Dean thought he was probably a few years older than him, and at the very least a second year.

His eyes drifted over the piles of junk that surrounded his roommate's bed and desk, just to give him a distraction from his own thoughts. And—was that a bong?_ Seriously? _Well, at least that explained _part _of the smell. Clearly Dean had joined the party late; he was starting to think he could really get along with this guy. He'd clearly been pretty well trapped by Michael over in his old building.

He rolled over and flicked his lamp off. Maybe he was feeling claustrophobic from the lack of fresh air in the room. Maybe he wasn't worried about anything.

Well he could hope for that much anyway.


	16. A Panic

**Chapter Fifteen**

Dean was talking, he knew that much, but the words were pouring out of his mouth, and it just felt like he was stuttering and slurring his way through the speech he had memorized for his presentation. The class stared at him bored, just like they had with everyone else, but it didn't change how nervous he was. This was possibly the first time many of them had even really heard him speak for more than a sentence.

"Would you girls shut yer traps?" Professor Singer's gruff voice stopped him in his tracks, but brought his attention to the small group of girls near the back of the lecture room who had apparently been talking and giggling this entire time. "Go ahead, Dean."

Dean swallowed and continued, gesturing to the slideshow he'd made which was projected behind him whenever he remembered to, though his movements were awkward and stunted at best. Not even a minute later, though it felt like hours, the professor interrupted again with a hoarse, "Girls, quite yer yabberin' or I'll throw ye out!" And they shut up again in time for Dean to finish the last minute.

He swore he must have blacked out the next bit, because he was back in his seat before he realised and someone else was talking, with a hell of a lot more confidence than him. He had been dreading this day for a long time – but the talking section of this module was mandatory for him to pass the year. He hated talking in front of people like that, especially since he'd avoided confrontation pretty much since the start of the year. He had hoped to get away with not having to talk again since he had first been confronted by Professor Singer a few months previous, but he had to do this. And in another few weeks – horror of horrors – he would have to give a group presentation. Which meant he would probably be pushed into a group of people he didn't know, since he didn't exactly have any friends in his class.

He figured that would help in his plans to conquer the class and eventually make friends here, but he had hoped to postpone that for at least another two months, or maybe even until next year. Then again, if he put it off for that long, he'd probably be able to convince himself it wasn't worth it – so the group presentation may be for the best.

A few minutes in to the last presentation of the day, the girls who had been talking during his – the same ones who had babbled on about Angel's show before – caught his attention and one of them leaned over to say, "we know who you are."

Dean frowned, but then it clicked. They had heard his voice now, for a prolonged period of time, enough to put together the pieces and realise he was Demon, the one who had rang into Angel's show religiously for weeks and shared every one of his problems live on air. Fuck. "Excuse me?" he said back, hoping to act oblivious enough to put them off the scent.

"_Demon_, right?" the same girl said, the other two nodding and smiling. "We know who you are."

"You know Angel, don't you?" another said quietly so as Singer wouldn't notice.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh please, you listen to the show, so don't act stupid, and your voice is exactly like his. It _must _be you."

Dean took a deep breath and just stared forward at the presentation, which had apparently ended without him noticing. And Singer was dismissing the class, he silently praised the gods and threw his stuff together getting out of the theatre before they could follow him.

He slung his bag over his shoulder as he walked, but of course, one of them caught up with him. The one who hadn't spoken, with deep blue eyes and a flash of crimson hair, "hey wait up," she called, but she had jogged up beside him and settled into his pace before he even had time to decide whether or not to slow, "Dean right?" she said, and he nodded, "I'm sorry about those guys – I swear they're such fan-girls about that show."

Dean nodded, he hadn't been expecting this, and he didn't quite know how he was supposed to respond.

She didn't seem to notice and just continued talking, "I think they're the only girls I know who write fanfiction about a radio show."

"Fan-what?" Dean asked finally, looking at her with a confused expression.

She chuckled musically, waving her hand through the air as if it wasn't of importance, "fanfiction – it's like writing a story about a tv-show, or a film – or in their case a radio show. I think most of the time it's just a way to fulfil their dreams that're never seen in canon – in the show," he said, clenching her fist dramatically in front of her.

Dean raised an eyebrow, "they write about Angel's show?"

"They write about Angel and Demon, slash fiction I think," she said, and elaborated, "Angel-slash-Demon," when he looked back at her with deeper confusion.

"What like… together?"

She laughed again, "yeah, I guess that's why they got so excited when they recognised your voice – the idea that their fiction might actually be canon got them more than a little enthusiastic." She smiled apologetically, "so I'm sorry – it was wrong of us to assume that you guys knew eachother, or were together or something."

He nodded, looking back ahead, brow deepening as he mulled that over. He'd never quite encountered fanfiction before, but to consider that someone was writing about an imaginary relationship between him and Angel… well it was a little flattering, but also frustrating. Something he had considered, no, that he had _wanted _for so damn long, existed in the head of the girls in his class, and probably on the internet now. And yet he couldn't have it. If only it was that simple.

"So… do you know him?" she asked, snapping him out of his train of thought.

"I… uh, no," he said, getting a little flustered but mostly remembering that telling her something like that could get him and Cas in a lot of trouble if it got out. Better it stayed in the imaginations of teenage girls.

"Right, right," she said nodding, an _'I knew it' _plastered all over her face. She pursed her lips slightly, "but you are Demon though, aren't you?"

He took a breath, she wasn't going to give up unless she heard what she wanted to, "yeah, I'm Demon."

She giggled a little, but managed to control herself, "huh, all this time I've been in Demon's class – makes you wonder how close Angel actually might be."

He nodded with her, trying to share her deep moment, but she was suddenly perky again, "I'm this way – I'll see you later, Dean," she called starting in the opposite direction – back to her home he assumed. "Oh, and by the way – I'm Anna!"


	17. A Step

**AN: I know, right? Double update! DOUBLE RAINBOW! I don't think there's a way to justify the fact that I haven't updated in days and now I have two chapters. Don't question it, shh just come. Also fairly certain that these are the closest I've gotten to writing happy chapters so far. Haha, yeah. **

**Anyway, let me know what you think!**

**Chapter Sixteen**

His hand was shaking slightly, gripping his phone and just staring at the screen. He had a text. And that in itself shouldn't be such a big deal, but this one was. He didn't recognise the number, but those three little letters at the end of it meant everything:

'_Do you think we _

_ could meet up?_

_ Cas'_

He had sent him a message, and he had asked for them to meet up. It had been the first time he'd heard from him again outside of the radio shows since he had driven up to see Dean. And it felt strange, because it was a whole other platform of conversation. He'd heard his voice, he'd seen his face, and now he was reading his words.

He hurriedly texted back with a simple, '_Yeah, where?' _and leaned back a little at his desk. Chuck was typing frantically on his laptop, curled up on his bed and obviously so zoned out that he didn't even notice Dean's reaction to the message. A minute later, it buzzed again.

_'You pick.'_

He stared at it for a moment, wondering more things than his brain could handle. But he decided on a place and replied, and when Cas texted back telling him he could be there in half an hour, Dean grabbed his coat and wallet and left, mumbling a goodbye that he wasn't even sure Chuck heard. Maybe the guy didn't even notice he was there.

* * *

><p>"We shouldn't be doing this, it's a bad idea," he said suddenly. He was scared, that much was obvious. Dean chewed on his lip for a second, brows furrowing. "I have to go," he continued, standing up and starting to walk out of the coffee shop.<p>

Dean sprung to his feet in front of Cas and tried to take his arm, to stop him, saying "Cas, wait," but Cas almost bounced backwards, eyes rounded with fear. And Dean just stared. Michael had broken this man, left him a shaking mess. Well no, he hadn't left him – that was the problem. And Dean couldn't think of a way out of it for his friend. After a few moments he shook his head softly and took a hesitant step towards the wild-eyed boy, "please don't go," he said quietly, advancing slightly more now that he could see Cas was calming down, "we're just talking, it's fine."

Cas' chest was heaving up and down in heavy breaths, starting to sweat ever so slightly, the faint glisten to his skin obvious from the soft glow of the lights overhead, "he's got eyes everywhere, if he finds out-"

"Look, he's not some mafia boss or sleazy politician – he's just some dick at a university," Dean said, hoping he could show Cas how much he believed in his own words just through the serious tone in his voice and the truth in his eyes. "I'm here, and I swear I'll keep you safe as long as you're with me."

Something in Cas' expression said that he wanted more than anything to believe what Dean was telling him. And even though he seemed to relax and reluctantly slumped back into his seat opposite Dean, that niggle of doubt never seemed to leave. And Dean couldn't blame him from that, Michael had stripped him of his ability to trust others long ago. He wouldn't be surprised if Cas was more of a hermit than even he was, probably held up in his room all day, only leaving for classes or when Michael summoned him. Afraid to go anywhere else. Afraid to be here.

"It's okay if you don't believe me, but I still swear I won't let anything happen to you while I'm here," Dean said leaning into the table so he was closer to Cas and wouldn't have to speak as loudly.

Cas nodded, chewing his lip which was already dry and puffy, making Dean think it was a frequent habit, thinking back he could swear he had done it a lot when he had seen Cas at the Garage too. "Thank-you," he said quietly, his voice still shaking a little.

"Of course, man," Dean replied softly, his whole expression reflecting his tone.

"No, thank-you, for coming here with me, and listening and… I haven't really told anyone about any of this and it feels better to have someone to just listen."

Dean swallowed, "it's the least I can do, after you listening to my crap for months, you did the same for me and I want to help you whatever way I can," a small smile spread across his lips which he hoped was reassuring, but it was partially a defence mechanism. He was never comfortable talking to people about these kinds of things, even his family or Jo. And it was strange to talk to Cas like this when he could actually see his face. He shook his head again, a dark chuckle starting in the back of his throat as he looked down. His hands pressed into fists on the table, "you have no idea how much I just want to rip that guys lungs out for hurting you."

Cas was studying his face, with a worried frown, "don't."

Dean looked up, "I know, it'll only get you in more shit, and that's the last thing either of us want."

"No," Cas said, shaking his head, and Dean looked up, confused, "if he finds out I've told you, he might hurt you. I don't want that."

Dean stared at Cas, and he could see how serious he was about that. That even though he had been through so much, he still found space to care about Dean's well-being. That was something truly amazing. He nodded, looking right back into Cas' eyes until he knew how thankful he was, and that he wouldn't do anything Cas didn't want. "We're safe here," he said after a few moments, he gestured around them, "no one can see us here." They were in the back of a coffee house, dimly lit fixtures hanging from the ceiling barely illuminating them. 'Mood-lighting' he supposed it was called. And the dark panelled walls, and lack of customers pretty much meant they wouldn't be disturbed. The people in here didn't give a shit about anyone else, they were self-obsessed, too busy showing off the fact that they were working on the next big masterpiece, and such kind people that they did it in public so that the people here's claim to fame could be that they once sat next to that guy who wrote that amazing book.

"And if anything does happen – not that it will – it'll give me an excuse to wreck the faces of anyone associated to that asshole," he said with a grin, that was briefly mirrored in Cas' porcelain expression.

"I'm glad you still call in," he said softly, his voice more still, but still with that deep crackle that Dean loved.

"Why would I ever stop?"

"I thought maybe you wouldn't trust Angel anymore, or even me, after… you know."

"Naw, you're pretty much the only friend I have. And even then, I guess it was all justified."

He smiled again, and it made Dean happy to see that, even if it was short lived when it did manifest, "oh hey, you'll never guess what happened to me the other day."

"Oh, your presentation? How did it go? I forgot to ask."

Dean chuckled, "no no, after that – well, no, it went okay. I mumbled the whole way through it, but it was fine. No, after I sat down, the girls in my class recognised my voice from the show, and got all giddy," Cas' expression got dark for a moment, worried, but Dean waved it away, "no – it's nothing bad – one of them chased after me after class, and said that they got all excited because apparently they write fanfiction about your show."

Disbelief and amusement flooded Cas' face, "fanfiction? Seriously?"

Dean pouted, "how come everyone knows about fanfiction but me?" he sighed, but continued, "that's not even the best part though – they apparently obsess over their ship Demon/Angel."

Cas seemed to blush and looked down at his coffee, which he hadn't touched yet. Dean figured he must be sensitive, maybe he couldn't drink anything too hot.

"What?"

"N-nothing, I just didn't expect that," he said with a shyness in his voice which he had never exposed on his show. "It's quite flattering really."

Dean cocked his head, "how come?"

"Well, that they would suppose that I would be suited to you," he looked up, and sure enough there was a pink blush across his cheeks, "that I might be good enough for you."

* * *

><p>Dean leaned back against the counter in the kitchen, waiting for the water to boil. His eyes were closed, running over the day's events. And a lot had happened. The sheer joy that a simple text from Cas had brought him still made him wonder, he was beginning to doubt more and more that he could just think of Cas or Angel as just a friend. Then seeing that shock on his face when he had just reached out to stop him from leaving, and that broken look in his eyes – fear that had been put there by Michael… his fist slammed down hard on the counter.<p>

"Woah!" some said from the door, his eyes shot opened to see a boy there, hands raised defensively with palms towards Dean.

"Sorry, man," he said folding his arms across his chest.

The guy nodded, flicks of brown hair bobbing around his head in a way that reminded Dean of Sam, "bad day?" he asked moving around the kitchen to make himself something to eat. Dean was thankful when the kettle had finished boiling so he could finish making his coffee.

"Yeah, I guess," he said thoughtfully, their backs turned to eachother.

"You're the new guy, right?" his voice came over the clinking and rustling, "I'm Gabe."

"Dean," he responded, turning to shake the other guy's hand. It was only then that he realised Gabe wasn't making some complicated meal, he was pushing things aside so he could get to, tear open, and munch on some giant bag of candy. Dean's eyebrows pushed upward in amusement. "I see you have a bit of a sweet tooth."

"We all have our vices," he said with a wry grin, "mine's just less destructive than most."

They leaned against opposite counters, Gabe stuffing his mouth with jellies and Dean sipping his coffee, "I don't know though," Gabe said, cocking his head and eyeing up Dean playfully, "I'd say you could put away the sweet stuff yourself."

Dean chuckled, "don't get me wrong, I love Halloween as much as the next kid, but I don't think I actively seek sugar," he said with a smile, "no, wait," he held up a hand, "that's not true – I love pie."

Gabe pursed his lips nodding with appreciation, "I love pie too," he said thoughtfully, "I like you Dean, don't be a stranger," he was starting to walk away when he said without looking back, "you should come hang out with us some time."

"Sure thing," he said, and then he stared after the guy unable to think anything but, _shit, did I actually talk to someone? Did I make a friend? _

That was a pathetic thought, that he didn't quite know how to make friends, or what exactly marked the beginning of a friendship. Maybe it was the way he looked a little like Sammy that balanced out the fact that he was some sort of sugar-freak – and it occurred to him that that conversation was one of the strangest he'd ever had – but he thought he quite liked Gabe.

His next thought after that, after analysing the conversation was, _I hope there were no innuendos in what we just said. _

Was it more pathetic that he didn't even know what flirting was anymore?


	18. A Touch

**AN: short update, sorry it's been so long. I want to update tomorrow or the next day as well so look out for that. Also sorry if this one's a bit sucky – it's currently 5am here D: love you guys 5eva 3**

**Chapter Seventeen**

"This is my safe place," he said carefully, eyes staring penetratively at Dean, almost boring a hole straight through him the gaze was so intense. "I don't bring anyone here," he was speaking slowly and watching Dean's reaction so closely, like he was judging whether or not he could be trusted. But of course Cas could trust Dean, he had taken him this far, he had made it to the boy's home, to his room. And they would take this next step together too.

Dean's hand moved halfway towards Cas' face, but he paused so that he wouldn't be taking him by surprise. He didn't want the guy to jump back again like he had in the coffee shop, and when he knew Cas understood what he intended to do, he slowly moved his hand the rest of the way to caress his cheek. There were always subtleties in their conversations, in their body language – Dean never had to outright explain his feelings to Cas, they were just a given. That was why there was no surprised in his expression now as Dean's hand lingered on his strong jawline.

His blues slid closed, and he inhaled slowly and deeply, just savouring the feeling. Dean wondered what it must be like, always associating such intimacies with pain and fear but now suddenly having the chance to rebrand it all as something innocent and caring.

"You can trust me, Cas."

His eyes opened ever so slightly, his head cocked to one side so he could press into Dean's touch, "I know." And this time he didn't just look like he _wanted _to believe, he looked like he did. And then it was obvious that Cas could bring Dean into his safe place because Dean was like a guardian to him, because he could trust him to keep him safe. "Kiss me, Dean."

And he wasn't nervous. He should have been, because he had never kissed a guy before. His experience with these things went as far as internet searches and a few minutes of gay porn. But here, with Cas, just the two of them finally, he felt secure and happy. They leaned together slowly, eyes drifting across the expanse of the other's face as if they had just laid eyes on eachother for the first time.

But when they kissed, Dean swore he could feel sparks rushing through his body from where their lips touched. It was different, so different, to everything he had experienced before. There was danger here, unfamiliarity. And yet Cas' lips were so full that they had an almost feminine quality to them – if not for the rough stubble that coated his cheeks. In that moment he knew, no kiss would ever be the same. He felt intimate with this man in a way he had never experienced with any previous lovers, it was the kind of closeness he had with Jo or with his brother – because it wasn't sexual, it was like he knew Cas inside and out, and he wanted to – no _needed _to – share everything about himself with him.

He thought he should take things slow with him, because he wasn't sure how he would react if he went too far. But Cas seemed to have other ideas. His hands, smooth and nimble, drifted down Dean's sides and started to slide off his jacket until he let it fall to the floor. Dean brought his hand back to cup Cas' face, as the man started to pull of his button-down. Dean's lips started to work across his cheek, enjoying the slight prickling burn as he dragged across the dark stubble; he left soft kisses down his jaw, and his neck, nipping gently. Cas had finally managed to strip Dean topless and then proceeded to run his hands down his chest, fingers catching briefly on his nipples. Dean managed to pull off Cas' shirt before his mouth clamped around Cas' clavicle, licking and nibbling and sucking. The other man's fingers laced in Dean's hair, pulling him down his chest and abdomen as he leaned back on the bed until Dean was on top. He moved hungrily south, lips and tongue dancing across his smooth, pale skin. His heart was beating fast, Cas was letting out these little moans that just gave him chills. Soft little kitten mewls that just poured out of him without restraint or even a care. His hands worked swiftly to undo Cas' belt and pull his trousers down, he stared up across the man's body to catch his eye, but his head was thrown back exposing his neck – which Dean found strangely sexual in a way he had never before considered. He looked back down before tugging on the band of his underwear and sliding them down, letting his erection bob free.

His hand gripped the shaft, and the desperate little moan that vibrated from Cas' lips made Dean flinch. Again, he felt he should have been even a little hesitant when he wrapped his lips around Cas' cock and started sucking, sliding with more ease up and down his length as it grew slick with saliva. More than anything he just felt the urge to make Cas happy for once. He just wanted to take care of him.

"Dean…"

He was already hard, but somehow hearing Cas moan his name just made him ache even worse.

"Dean... _Dean._"

He sucked his throbbing cock, licking his tongue over the head occasionally as his head bobbed. Cas' hand still meshed in his hair, tugging it, forcing his movements.

"Dean."

His voice had changed, still familiar, but somehow different. He looked up at Cas' face, but it wasn't his face. He jumped back a little, "hello, Dean," came the voice again, from Michael. Dean stared at him in horror. What had he done?

"Dean, Dean, _Dean!_"

Something connected hard with his side and Dean jumped awake, he took a while to understand what was going on. Chuck was standing over him, and after a few seconds he could see Gabe behind him at the door.

"You sure like your beauty sleep," Chuck said with his nervous laugh before it quickly faded and he sat back on his own bed.

"We're going out tonight, I just wanted to invite you," Gabe said, with apparently no regards to Chuck. "pre-drinks at mine."

"Yeah man, I'll think about it," Dean said groggily, still somewhat trying to comprehend what had happened.

Gabe's face grew serious, one hand on the knob of the door, a finger of the other pointing at him, "my invites are mandatory, Deano," he said, and his face instantly lightened to a goofy smile, "see you at eight."

He slammed the door shut behind him and Dean fell back on his bed. He barely got a minute of silence before Chuck piped in, "good dream?" he asked in a tone that said he already knew the answer. Dean's head turned enough so he could see his roommate.

"Most of it," he mumbled, blearily.


	19. A Deduction

**Chapter Eighteen**

**AHH~ I'm so sorry this took so long. I swear this thing has never left my mind, but I have all of these deadlines for uni and I couldn't make myself sit down and do it because then there would be evidence that I wasn't filling sketchbooks and writing essays haha**

**Hopefully after this week I'll be able to put more time into this again. But if not, it might be around the end of the month when I'm off for a few weeks that I'll get back into regular updates. **

**Thank-you guys so much for the support though, you're all so damn awesome and I love you 3 Still getting little emails of reviews and things lights me up inside. You have no idea~**

* * *

><p>"So, what's her name?" Gabe asked with slurred speech and half-lidded eyes. They were back in his room, the rest of the group had dispersed along the way, but he could only remember bits and pieces of the journey back anyway.<p>

"What?" Dean asked, face pressing into a frown with effort.

"You've been acting weird all day, and at the club, girls were coming at you from every angle, but you pretty much swatted them away," he stopped with what should have been a meaningful pause, but it turned into his eyebrows crushing together to remember what he was going to say. "So… what's her name?" he asked finally.

"Dude, dude, no – there's no girl," Dean said, barely able to keep his eyes open, wagging his hand at Gabe dismissively.

When his eyes managed to force open again, Gabe was giving him his best 'bitch please' look before he unfolded his arms and started fiddling with an iPod. Luckily, his roommate had been out with them and was currently passed out at an awkward angle on his own bed. Dead to the world. Nice guy too, he'd bought them all shots of something nasty at one point – a Purple Nurple Dean thought it was called.

He was chewing on his lip when Gabe looked back, some familiar song filling in the empty space as he cracked open a couple of tinny's for the two of them. "Cas," he said reverently, "her name's Cas." He took the can he was offered and gulped down a little too much, spluttering a little on warm foam and fizz.

Gabe nodded, triumphantly, "nice name, must be pretty hot too considering the trouble you're going through for her."

There was a ringing in his ears from standing near the club's speakers all night. But there was a buzz of reality too, from finally being home and safe, out of the darkness and strobe lights and people bumping into you. From being crushed into a frustrated queue to the smoker's area or the bathroom or the bar. It did the trick in sobering him up enough to be able to swim through the thoughts in his head and pick the right words so he didn't make an ass of himself. He didn't even know what time it was, but it had to be early, the left when the club closed, and his eyelids were so heavy.

But through all of that, it was a great night, even if he was haunted by his earlier dream. It had been good to get out and get wasted enough to forget about everything and just enjoy the moment.

"She's a nice girl," he said slowly, taking another drink, "she gets me."

"Hmm, so what's the problem?"

He shrugged, "she's in a bad relationship."

Gabe made a face that Dean couldn't quite put a name on, but it was a mix of understanding and sympathy. "What're you going to do?"

"I don't know."

He nodded and they sat in silence, listening to the music, leaning back against the wall and just drinking. And it was fine, because despite having something of a serious conversation, they were both still pretty drunk, and silences like that were just _acceptable_.

"I'm going to save h-her…" he said with determination, almost tripping himself up with personal pronouns.

Gabe nodded again, and didn't say anything for a while, just took another drink. This conversation would only last as long as the beer they clutched, they were both tired but this time to chill was almost as mandatory as ordering take-away at 3am. "I'm here for you man, I'll help if I can."

Dean looked across to catch Gabe's goofy grin, and he couldn't help but smile back, "thanks man."

"You're pretty cool, Winchester."

"You're not so bad yourself."

The conversation dwindled after that, to meaningless things, laughing at things they'd seen that night. It was like they were old friends already, there was no awkwardness between them. Nothing makes or breaks a friendship faster than a night out. And like clockwork, with that last drip falling from can to lip, Dean pushed himself upright unsteadily to his feet.

"Was a good night man, I better get some sleep."

"Yeah, me too, catch you later, Winchester."

And with that he wobbled his way out of Gabriel's room and to his own, falling onto it fully clothed and falling asleep almost instantly.

* * *

><p>The obligatory pounding headache and nausea came the next morning when his eyes reluctantly slid open with the sudden, blinding morning light. Beams of white shot through the open curtains right onto his face. He rolled over and rolled back when it didn't get any better before he finally forced himself up.<p>

"You look like you had a good night," Chuck said quietly from across the room with a timid smile, making Dean aware of him. His throat was too dry to say anything so he just smiled and nodded.

He pressed his feet into the ground, testing whether he would be able to stand or not without falling or throwing up. His eyes squinted almost shut to keep out the light which was making him feel like his brain was bleeding. Finally he stood, giving him a bit of a light head, and slowly but surely he slithered to the kitchen, leaning against walls and doors to keep himself up.

Gabe nodded to him with a jerk that made him wince and groan. Dean grinned at that, getting himself a glass of water and leaning back against the counter behind Gabriel, pressing his eyes shut and drinking quickly.

"Are you Latino?" he asked so out of the blue that he almost shocked himself.

"What?" Gabe asked, his voice all cut up, probably from shouting over loud music and singing at the top of his lungs all night. Dean's was much the same.

"Your name," he said, opening his eyes, "it's not exactly common."

Gabe shrugged and turned back to lean into the opposite countertop, nursing his own water and what looked like peanut-butter on toast, "my mum lost a bet or something I guess." He tilted his head back and forth for a bit before finally saying, "no, I think she likes Angels and stuff. She's pretty religious."

Dean chuckled, "fair enough."

There was a silence and then Gabe finally turned around, dark rings under his bloodshot eyes and a sour look on his face, "I know Cas is a guy," he said. And Dean's heart skipped a beat.

Now it was his turn to say, "what?"

Gabe shrugged as if he was indifferent about it, "you were moaning about him for a bit, but you didn't mention a name, just bits about his situation; I kinda put two and two together."

Something on Dean's face must've struck Gabe because he was suddenly by his side, with a hand on his shoulder saying, "don't worry, man, I'm on your side. I won't tell anyone."

And Dean couldn't breath. It was hard enough for him to understand his feelings, now someone knew. Someone other than Cas, and the suspicions of Anna. And his heart was hammering in his chest, and his jaw was clenched, and his palms were getting sweaty.

"Dean?" Gabe said, probably worried that he had seized up and wasn't responding. "Dean, I'm going to help you guys, okay? I don't care about any of that homophobic shit, love is love."

Dean's eyes drifted up to meet Gabe's, and he believed him. And somehow that soothed him, but there was still a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach that this was the beginning of the end. He managed to nod a little stiffly, and after a few moments of that he murmured, "okay… okay."

"Okay, good," Gabe said, with a worried smile, "you've got a friend, Dean, you're not alone in this."

And he knew the guy was right, he wasn't alone. And he was so damn thankful for that.

They might actually be able to save Cas.

He needed to save Cas.


	20. Another Step

Chapter Nineteen

"What you said before, about me being safe as long as you're with me…"

"Yeah?"

"I think I believe you."

"Cas… that's great, really."

Something burned in Dean's chest, maybe it was pride or hope; but whatever it was, it was like a beam of light piercing the veil. Cas was starting to trust him, and Dean was beginning to believe that he might actually be able to set him free. Cas was sitting across from him, his hands fiddling obsessively with a little packet of sugar. Dean could tell it was hard enough for him to be saying any of this, let alone to have to look him in the eye and say it. He nodded slightly in timid recognition of Dean's praise, and after a few moments he continued, "I want to show you where I feel safest."

He hadn't been expecting that, and initially he was taken-aback, "w-what?"

Cas finally looked up at him, his brow pressed into a worried frown, "I want to show you my home."

It didn't slip Dean by that this was a huge step for Cas, in learning to trust someone again; he just couldn't believe it was happening so quickly, "are you sure?" They had been talking for a few months now, but they'd only been meeting like this for a few weeks.

He nodded, in no way was his face free from doubt, but he was obviously determined to do this. And who was Dean to stop him or tell him he wasn't ready?

"Alright then," he smiled reassuringly back at the blue-eyed-boy, "okay."

There was something about the smell in Cas' car that reminded him of home. He knew that that sounded stupid, but it didn't change the fact. Maybe he associated it with something so positive because it was the first real contact he'd had with Cas – when he had helped Jo patch up his car. Even if he hadn't really spoken to him. Thinking about things like that made it all the more bizarre, how he would retell these stories of people he had run into to Angel, and even when he had been referring to Cas, the presenter had played it cool. Angel had known so much longer who Dean was than Dean could've even suspected. And though he understood why, it still irked him that Angel hadn't nudged him towards the answer.

"I hope you like cats," Cas said, with more of a hint of what he had pictured Angel as before meeting Cas.

Dean shrugged with a smile, "I'm not opposed to them."

They pulled into quite a pleasant drive, walled in by finely trimmed bushes. He hadn't expected Cas to live in a place like this, but it made sense he supposed. If you only felt safe at home, you'd make it as close to perfect as you could. Everything was pristinely maintained, not even a hint of a cobweb or chipped paint, nothing out of place. It was so meticulously kept that Dean was almost afraid to get out of the car in case he ruined something.

Now it was Dean's turn to be timid, as he followed Cas, being so careful to not say or do anything that might upset the balance. So very aware that he was a guest here, and that this was a big deal for Cas, he didn't want to screw anything up.

"Balthy should be around here somewhere," Cas said a little absently as he turned a key in the door and led Dean inside. Everything about this place made him relax, the smell, the neutral colours, the simple décor. This wasn't a student's place, this was more like an interior decorators show-house.

"Wow…" he found himself saying, and out of the corner of his eye he could see Cas smiling.

He followed him up the stairs, and towards what he assumed would be Cas' bedroom. He heard a noise at his feet and looked down to see a fluffy little tabby twisting between his legs, big blue eyes reminiscent of Cas'. He knelt down to pet it, drifting his fingers softly through the kitten's fur, who moved its body in such a delicate way it made him feel like he was never really touching it. "You must be Balthy, little fella, huh?"

He heard a muffled snort from Cas and a voice behind Dean made him jump, "no, darling – _I'm _Balthy." Dean spun around wide-eyed, causing the cat to jump back, "honestly Cassy, bringing home strange men, it's so unlike you. I'm hurt."

Dean couldn't say anything, he was just staring at the slim, thickly-accented man towering above him as he remained in a frozen crouched position on the floor; all dramatic gestures and metrosexual clothing. He seemed to have some mental block then, like he couldn't quite process what was happening, not until Cas – "_Cassy" _– helpfully chirped in behind him, "Balthy this is Dean, Dean, Balthy."

Balthy seemed to force a smile, "it's a pleasure, Dean," he said, extending a hand. Maybe it was Dean's imagination, but he almost seemed to spit his name like it was some awful taste on his tongue. Perhaps because his name just wasn't as foreign and interesting as theirs seemed to be. Dean took his hand and shook it as he rose to his feet.

"Yeah, same," he said, unsurely. Cas chuckled behind him – it seemed like the further he got into this house the more at ease he became. This really was his safe-haven, and that was probably why he seemed like such a different person on the radio. Anna had told him that he broadcast from home before he had even plucked up the courage to call in, so it made sense. Michael had never stepped foot in this place, and Cas held it sacred because it hadn't been spoiled by the pain the man brought with him. "I didn't know you had a housemate," Dean said, looking at Cas over his shoulder, and dropping Balthy's hand.

"Flattering that you talk about me so much, Cas," the other man said, his voice dripping with sarcasm and Dean turned back to face him just in time to see his blank expression before he suddenly perked up, clapping his hands together and saying, "well, I'll leave you chaps to… whatever it is you're up to." He started to walk towards his own room before he turned with a wink, "don't do anything I wouldn't."

Dean almost couldn't hold off the look of disdain before the guy walked away. What a douchebag.

"Come on," Cas said, surprisingly light-hearted, but then maybe he was used to him coming out with demeaning quips.

He started to say, "How can you put up with that guy?" but he was cut-off midway when he entered Cas' room; almost like the breath was knocked out of his lungs. It was huge, not a thing out of place, but that wasn't what caused him to stop in his tracks – wall-to-wall, it was lined with vinyl's and old cassettes, CDs and posters. There was a wide desk by the wall that contained what he had to assume was the entirety of Cas' personal radio station, and all above it the wall was covered in polaroid pictures. He had retro tape-decks, radios and cameras lined along shelves on the other side. It was amazing.

"Cas…"

"You're not going to turn into one of those fangirls, are you?" he asked with a smile, and Dean couldn't help but grin back. "Well then, pick your jaw up off the floor and come in."

Dean tried to purse his lips but it spread into a smile all too quickly, and he stepped the rest of the way into the room, gingerly taking a seat on the bed. It was strange to admit, but this was more like the Cas he had imagined all of the those times. Much as he cared for the timid side he had seen so much more often, this was the part of him he had really wanted to find. And though he didn't want to be a fanboy, he couldn't help but feel a little giddy, because he was with Angel now.

"Your housemate's an ass," he stated out-rightly, not even slightly afraid that he might upset him, and it was nice to be so open with Cas without having to tiptoe around him, as if he might scurry away at the slightest noise.

"Yeah," Cas agreed with a smile, sitting back into the seat by his desk, "but he keeps me sane." In the name of contradicting himself, as he felt he so often did, Dean _did _think that it wouldn't be a good idea to ask if Balthy knew about Michael. He could pretty much gather that he didn't, but he didn't want to bring that guy up in the one place Cas was void of him.

"Fair enough."

Dean's eyes searched around the room, snagging on different artefacts from music history, album covers he recognised, and ones he didn't have a clue about. Dragging across books and posters, lingering on photos, and finally narrowing in on the computer screen behind Cas. He tilted his head slightly and his brow furrowed as he caught the title, "what's that?" he asked, confused. Cas seemed to go a little white as he realised what Dean was looking at and spun in the chair to try to close the window. Dean was already on his feet and behind Cas, leaning over his shoulder and reading the screen. And his frown bloomed into a smile, "were you reading fanfiction?" he asked, voice spilling with amusement, "_Demon/Angel_ fanfiction?" He was laughing then, and Cas went a little red.

"I was just curious," he defended himself meagrely.

"Is that right?" Dean chuckled, reaching across him for the mouse to scroll through it, but Cas playfully pulled him away by his waist, they twisted in a way not dissimilar to kids play-fighting, but then suddenly stopped. Just an inch apart, eye-to-eye, and Dean's breath caught in his throat. It was the moment that came before a kiss, and for a moment neither seemed to realise, both set on instinct, but they froze just a breath apart. And suddenly all Dean could think of was his dream, and his eyes went a little wide. He stumbled back apologies melted somewhere in a sea of babble that erupted from his mouth as he looked everywhere but at Cas, who was doing much the same. He was back on the bed, facing away, and Cas was looking at the floor, and there was a silence. Dean could barely think, but after too-long he said, "shit, I'm sorry Cas."

And the other boy didn't reply.

It hit him that maybe he'd fucked it all up, not even just their relationship, or friendship, or co-dependency, whatever this was – but Cas' safeplace. Everything else was miniscule compared to that. If he'd ruined it… how could he ever forgive himself? He couldn't break one of the few things that gave him hope and peace; that would be like beating a puppy.

He heard a laugh behind him, something he had only really heard on the radio. It started quiet and grew into something musical and infectious; enough to make Dean turn in question.

"If this had been fanfiction, we'd both be on the bed right now," Cas explained between bouts of laughter, his eyes sparkling bright, and Dean couldn't help but feel relieved as he laughed too.


	21. An introduction to Fanfiction

**AN: OMG U EFFIN PREPS!1! I WILL STEAK U BCUZ IM SO GOFFIK!1!1!11!**

**No, okay, no My Immortal references here. Just a quick update. If I wasn't so lazy I would write in the next bit, but I'll shave it for later haha **

**I already mentioned this on the Tumblr blog (angel-on-the-radio), but since I have about three weeks off uni now, I might take some crack chapter requests to break up any serious writing. So if you guys have any suggestions of stuff, just randomness to do with the story or whatever, let me know. Though I think most will be exclusive to the blog so I don't clutter this up or confuse people, but I'll throw in any links here if it happens. **

**Hopefully updates will be a bit more regular for the next while!**

**Chapter Twenty**

"Did you know people write fanfiction about your show?"

"What's fanfiction?"

Dean smiled into his phone, so that was the game Angel had chosen to play. "Just when people write stories based on a tv-show or something," he said, trying his best to summarise what Anna had told him on the subject. "And apparently some of your fans write it."

"Is that so?" came his husky voice, feigning surprise so well that Dean almost believed him, "I gather you read it then? How else would you know about it, little Demon?"

Dean shook his head, lips pulled into a smile, _crafty_. "No, I just happen to know someone who writes it."

"Convenient."

Dean shifted his position on his bed, leaning back a little so he could rest the elbow of his phone-hand on a pillow. Across the room, Chuck was plugged in. Headphones clutching his ears tightly as he typed manically into his keyboard, he seemed so zoned out that it was impossible to tell if he even knew what room he was in never mind what Dean was doing.

"You know, I just had a great idea – and I'm sure your listeners would agree," Dean said, with the beginnings of a smirk, "you should do a dramatic reading of one of them. I could recommend one for you, since you've obviously never come across any before."

For the first time, Dean heard Angel hesitate. He was convinced the other man was laughing softly to himself in his room. If Cas could be crafty, so could Dean. He wouldn't let him get away with making Demon out to be some nerdy kid sitting at home all day reading bad fiction about their favourite show; if he was hell-bent on acting oblivious to it all, it shouldn't be a problem.

"If you're not sure, maybe your listeners could call in and tell you if they'd enjoy that," he said, smirk growing.

"That's… a great idea," Angel said slowly, "because my main worry, of course is that I might bore them."

"With a voice like yours, I'm sure you could read anything and keep us entertained."

"I'll keep that in mind," he replied, with an obvious smile in his voice. "Oh look, we've got another caller already."

* * *

><p>After a significant chunk of the show had been taken up by listeners calling in and telling him what a good idea it would be, and how much they would <em>love <em>him to read, a few even trying to convince him to read out theirs, he finally gave in. Apparently they'd all picked up on his scheme to keep Angel oblivious to the fact that most had pretty significant porn scenes, or consisted entirely of that – though Dean and Cas were fully aware of this trait in fanfiction.

"That was a… pretty overwhelming response to Demon's suggestion, so I guess I can't chicken out now." Angel said with some defeat in his tone. Dean was listening through his earphones again, having hung up to make room for the surge of calls that had come through – probably more than Cas' equipment could handle. "I'll make a note of the frankly worrying amount of suggested reads and pick one out for next Friday's show. Something tells me this will have to be done during a late-night slot."

Dean chuckled to himself, his chest bouncing strangely from the awkward position he was lying in.

"I'll finish with a song, good-night little demons, and to _my _demon – this one goes out to you."

A difference smile graced Dean's lips when he heard the opening to Bastard. And just as the song got started, his phone buzzed, he lifted it to check the message, knowing it was from Cas before he even checked.

_'Subtle enough?'_

Dean laughed, head subconsciously nodding to the song buzzing in his ears.

_'You mean you don't want to read some fanfiction about us to your listeners?'_

_'I'm sure it will be the highlight of my week…'_

_':-p'_


	22. A Seduction

**AN: Apologies for the major delay, I guess that's what comes when you collaborate with someone. The fanfiction about this fanfiction which is being read by one of the characters of the fanfiction in the fanfiction… ouch… was kindly written by a friend of mine who goes by real-placebo-effect on here. I hope you enjoy it!**

**Chapter Twenty-One**

Dean grinned when he heard That Friday-Feeling end, the show that was usually on before Angel's late slot. He'd been looking forward to this, more than he had looked forward to anything in a long time. He heard the rich, oaky tones pour into his ears as Angel introduced the show like he always did, and Dean found that he was pushing himself up on his bed to get comfortable. His eyes glanced across the room to Chuck's occupied bed, the guy was out for the count, snoring slightly, twitching or occasionally muttering something to himself; but that was barely audible once he had his headphone's on.

"_Hey there, you're listening to Angel's Demons, for the fieriest tracks direct from the pits of hell, brought to you by your truly angelic overlord. Today, we've got a special show, thanks to the suggestion of our resident little Demon. For those of you who didn't tune in to last week's show, it was forcefully advocated that I experience some of the delightful fanfiction that our listeners have so kindly written for the show. I've been informed that the majority of these focus on myself and Demon. And after many, _many _submissions, I've chosen to read: Radiowaves. So, here goes, lil' fellas." _

Dean was chewing on his lip slightly to bite back a smirk. He could imagine this was going to be funny as hell, and he just hoped he wouldn't wake up Chuck if things got too much for him to bear. Angel hadn't even begun to read, and he was already a little giddy with the prospect. He heard Angel clearing his throat, and then, he started.

"_Angel carefully placed the last of his things into his bag, smiling at the memories of the day's events. His listeners had been even more quirky than usual, but his sharp mind kept going back to the ever mysterious Demon. He wondered what the man would look like. If he had a set of pretty lips to go along with that deep voice, a long pale throat and slender hands that held the phone up."_

Angel's choked, rustic voice took the words slowly, like crashing waves; slipping over every syllable like velvet. And it made Dean's skin tingle; especially the way in which he spoke his pet-name, or the feeling he put behind his pondered description of him. He shifted uncomfortably. Angel was playing this game masterfully – he didn't seem to find it awkward or unsettling, but instead had approached it like he was now the host of some strange sex-hotline.

"_Lightning crackled overhead and Angel realised that he'd gotten lost in his reverie. It was raining, hard, a storm actually, and the clouds rolled ominously outside of the studio. Angel pressed the last of his papers into his bag, zipping it up. The floor creaked. Angel froze."_

Thunder and lightning, maybe that was the best way for Dean to describe his voice – not only how it sounded, but how it made him feel. It gave him chills, made his hair stand on-end, and it both scared and entranced him.

"_He turned, almost too terrified, tension settling into his arms. Lightning struck behind him once again, two, three four, lighting up the dark silhouette standing in the doorway. Part of Angel knew who it was immediately, and it tumbled out of his mouth, his voice deep and gravelly._

_"Demon.""_

His breath hitched slightly. Something in Angel's intonation made it feel like he was talking to him, so directly. His heart skipped a beat. Looking down briefly, he noticed his hands were clenched firmly together. This shouldn't be giving him this reaction. He and Angel were just friends. Sure, okay, he may have accidentally thought about him that way, and he and Cas may have had a _moment _recently. He may even have been considering the possibility that he was gay for quite some time. But this, _this _shouldn't be happening.

"_"Demon," Angel breathed, hardly daring to believe it. _

_Swathed in darkness, he stood by the door, palms bracing him against it. Angel couldn't quite see anything but hints of a face. Angular jaw, the tip of a nose, the curve of a lip; as angelic as it was terrifying. Demon's eyes were intense, so intense, as they trailed across as the planes of Angel's face. _

_Lightning struck once again, illuminating everything for less than a second. It hadn't been enough, only serving to raise the gooseflesh along Angel's arms."_

Dean swallowed hard, there was a feeling in the pit of his stomach, so familiar, but with the rising tension he could do nothing to stop it from building.

"_The rain poured, but to Angel, it seemed as if the world had stopped. Demon took another step toward him, and another and another, until Angel thought they would collide; like a car crash, or like heaven and hell. _

_A warm hand, hot hot hot hand, trailed up across Angel's cheek and he hardly dared to breathe. Don't fuck this up, he told himself sternly, don't move don't think don't-_

_Before he could even finish reprimanding himself, Demon had pulled him in close, fingers curling at the base of his neck, lips warm and real against his own. It was a chaste kiss, for a demon, and Angel smirked against his lips, shoving the other man back before grabbing the front of Demon's shirt to pull him in again."_

Dean choked a little, struggling to breath past the beating of his own heart and the pressure building up in his chest. His hand had at some point slipped down his leg to clasp around the bulge in his pants, shifting with growing restlessness as he became more and more uncomfortable.

"_Demon's mouth was sweet and responsive, lips moving equally fervently against his own. Angel's tongue curled out to meet Demon's, the other man shivered against him, making a delicious sound that was quickly cut off. _

_Displeased, Angel's hands curved around, moved from Demon's neck to the hem of his shirt before simply pulling it off. His mouth moved along the side of Demon's neck, tongue swiping and teeth grazing the sensitive, warm flesh as Angel grabbed his hair and pulled the other man's hair back. _

_Demon hissed, but rolled his hips against him in encouragement. _

_Teeth grazing the other's collarbone, Angel murmured to him, "If I wasn't a patient man, I'd just fuck you across this table, right now."_

_"Do it, then." Demon ground out, greedy fingers pulling off Angel's own shirt. Greedier still, Demon's hands trailed down the expanse of pale skin, between Angel's legs to cup him there. His hips jerked uncontrollably and Angel moaned, unabashed. "Do it.""_

Something burned in Dean suddenly, like a fire had been briefly ignited inside of him. His hand moved slowly, undoing the buttons on his jeans. He couldn't help himself, he couldn't help this feeling that was overcoming him. As much as he wanted to resist it, he just _had _to.

"_Unable to answer, Angel's hand dug into the muscle of the man's thigh as his mouth worked on a tight nipple, teeth brushing before closing in, soft licks and sucks to soothe and tease further. The back of Demon's thighs hit the table and still, Angel kept pushing until he was seated on it, heels just managing to brace themselves on the edge. _

_Brazenly, Demon's hips surged up against Angel's own, watching the other's mouth fall open with his gasps and groans. Again and again and again, hardness against hardness, until they were moving so sinuously and perfectly and goddamnit, he just needed to get these fucking clothes off and he'd- _

_"No, no," Angel muttered under his breath, pulling himself away. Demon made a strangled noise, hands reaching to pull him back, but Angel shrugged him off, sending him a mischievous look before his tongue snaked out to trace Demon's hipbone. _

_Moaning, Demon pushed his hips up off the table, impatient and desperate for more contact. Angel petted his thigh in compensation and Demon glared at him from his position above."_

His legs jittered slightly, unable to control the motion that was taking over his body. All he could focus on where the words dripping from Angel's lips and his hand moving slowly under the waistband of his underwear to take a firm hold of his length. He let out a little gasp of air, barely audible to him over the sweet sound of the narrative in that beautiful voice leaking into his ears. He couldn't take it. He hated himself for doing this, but he couldn't take it.

"_Angel took no notice, nimble hands working to unbutton Demon's jeans, sliding them down pale thighs and they thudded somewhere on the ground. He kissed Demon's inner thighs, slow and languid, mouth open and hot, just shy of where Demon wanted it the most._

_The other slid Demon's boxers down, down, down, and then he was bare, and Angel wasn't. A hot hand on his thigh and Demon was squirming, almost crawling out of his skin for more contact._

_Instead, Angel kissed him, slow and languid, tongue fucking into his mouth relentlessly. And all Demon could do was spread his legs and his lips like a wanton whore for it, twisting and moaning and gasping all the while."_

Still he waited, hand wrapped around his cock, but he waited for Angel to catch up. In his head the words, _please _and _oh god _kept throbbing to the forefront. It was a silent pleading for him to give Dean some indication that he could start, that he could move towards a climatic release.

"_Unnoticed, the hot hand wrapped around Demon's hard length and he shot up, back jack-knifing as Angel began sliding his hand, hard and fast over his thick length._

_Swallowing down his noises, Angel continued the pace relentlessly, and Demon was rushing towards the edge of a cliff, almost, almost, almost-_

_"Please-""  
><em> 

Dean's hand moved in time, eyes pressed shut, pretending Angel was here, pretending it was _him _perched on the table… he shuddered, hand working quickly, too quickly. He found himself echoing the words, "please… please… please."

Getting so close, too fast.

"_"No. This is on my terms. Move forward." Angel demanded, voice deep and hypnotising. Charmed, like a snake, Demon edged forward until his feet were planted on the ground."_

Dean stopped obediently, frozen, skin burning with longing. Body overcome with want. But there was such demand in his voice, as if he was right here in the room, watching Dean. _Commanding _Dean.

"_"I'm gonna put my mouth on your cock and you're not gonna move. Not even a little bit. Scream, if you want, but don't you dare move." Angel didn't even wait for his confirmation before sinking to his knees and taking him straight into his mouth._

_Something raw and wounded climbed out of Demon's throat, back arching as he doubled over, hands flying to hold onto Angel's hair."_

A chaste gasp escaped Dean's lips, and he was almost too frozen to continue the motion, rougher but slower this time. His hand working on his throbbing cock almost with a sense of reverence. But the mental image of Angel there; fucking him in the mouth, that utter control dripping from him… it was almost too much. But he held on, he wouldn't let himself go.

For Angel.

"_Immediately, Angel moved back to frown at him._

_"God, I'm sorry, jesus," Demon gasped, "You're-I can't-please-"_

_Angel made an assenting noise before slowly licking from base to tip and back again, and again. Demon's hips twitched in response, muscles straining with the need to move, to grab and to just fuck into Angel's mouth until he came. But he restrained himself, palm pressed against his mouth as the other gripped the edge of the table."_

A moan shuddered from Dean's lips, leaking from him as if it was liquid rather than sound. His head fell back slightly as he ran two fingers along his length, from base to tip, just imagining it was Angel's tongue. He used the gathering precome as lube, but almost enjoying the roughness of the wank from hands only otherwise slicked with sweat and saliva. He let out another stuttered breath as he continued, focusing on Angel's words.

"_He gasped, trying hard not to desperately buck, as the other man's mouth closed around the tip of his cock before inching to the base until he was completely engulfed in the wet, warm cavern of Angel's mouth. Another moan was ripped from him and Angel moved Demon's hands so that he could brace himself on Angel's shoulders."  
><em> 

Demon moaned along with the narrative, his cock pulsing, his whole body vibrating. He was so close. He didn't know if he could hold on for much longer.

And he couldn't.

The words faded in a thick smog around him. And he was submerged, completely at the mercy of Angel and his gravelly tones. He couldn't hear anymore, he could only feel the levels of ecstasy which he was quickly ascending. He just kept breathing, but his mind was completely free of his body. Floating so high…

"_Angel."_

He wasn't quite sure if he spoke the words, or if it was the man still talking in his ears. Dean wasn't quite sure how much time had passed, but when he had come down, and found himself lying back, sweating and panting slightly – his heart thumping in his chest – Angel had finished.

"_I hope you found that interesting my little Demons, I can definitely tell you that was a once in a lifetime opportunity which I don't plan on ever doing again. _

_We've got a couple of minutes left, maybe Demon wants to call in and tell us what he thought? It was his idea after all._

_Demon?_

_Demon?_

_Hmm, I guess he's a little tied up at the moment…"_


	23. A Confession

**AN: So there're trigger warnings on this chapter, to do with rape and abuse. Sorry in advance. Trying to approach this as delicately as possible. **

**Also a note to anyone who isn't on Tumblr, there was an exclusive chapter posted on the blog recently. Bit of random spoof that won't tie back into the story, and is kind of vague on the timeline, but yes. **

**I warned you before, the last chapter is the last bit of loveliness you'll get for a while, time to get down to business! Enjoy and review and enjoy. Love you guys!**

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

Dean shook his head, staring down at his palms like they held all of the answers. His eyes flicked up suddenly at the unexpected sound of a click, so loud in the silence, and he watched Cas bring a flame to the cigarette protruding from his chapped lips. All this time, he hadn't been aware that Cas smoked, it made sense though, considering his voice, his general character. He recalled thinking that perhaps Angel was a smoker when he first started listening; though that seemed so long ago now.

"I want to tell you everything," he said. And the gravelly voice broke the silence that had drawn out between them again so without warning that Dean almost visibly flinched with surprise. "But you can't bring it up again, once I tell you, that's it," there was an urgency in Cas's eyes and his voice, and Dean was compelled to just nod in agreement. He didn't say anything, just watched Cas, but after that the other man's eyes never met his, he watched the smoke drifting delicately from between slightly-parted lips, or he watched the table that kept them apart; but he wouldn't quite look at Dean.

He inhaled again, deeply before he began, spouting smoke as he spoke, "you know I had to hack into the university's frequency," he asked, though it wasn't a question. "Well, it's almost as easy to get access to the private files on the University intranet." He flicked ash from the end with a certain expertise, "I barely did any work during my first year," he said with the flicker of a smile, eyes still trained on the table, "all of the tests and essays were just sitting there, example answers just waiting to be plucked – but all good things come to an end, right?"

Dean didn't say anything, just ran a tongue across his lip and listened. He didn't quite see how this could lead to his… whatever was happening with Michael. But he was being patient, and when Cas stopped speaking there was a thick air of tension in the room, so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

"I slipped up, I handed in the wrong assignment, something that hadn't even been given to us. The professor hadn't reported me yet, he said he wanted to speak to me about it all. I don't know, I pulled some sob story about not understanding the course and falling behind; I convinced him to give me a second chance, and I," he stopped again, muttering something under his breath as he shook his head and took another drag, breathing it back out before he continued, "I saw a way to take advantage of the situation, and I took it. I talked him into giving me private tuition so I could catch up. The first few times I… _came on_ to him. I did the 'over-appreciative student act', you know?" His eyes flickered up to meet Dean's briefly and he made a face and a vague half-shrug that indicated he'd done more than just rub up against his teacher.

Dean inhaled a little shakily and nodded, though Cas had already resumed looking down before he caught the full indication of Dean's understanding. "The last time, after he'd come to expect it, I hid a video camera in my bag. Caught it all, made it look like he was pressuring me into doing things, to pass his class." Cas took a last drag and stubbed it out. "I showed him the video, gave him a disk, told him that I wasn't going to do any more work for his class, and if he failed me, the video would go public."

Dean's brow furrowed as he listened, he couldn't help feeling a little differently towards Cas. He hadn't taken him as an opportunist, he'd always thought of him as a victim up until now. And he understood why it had taken him so long to confide this in him, clearly he knew that it would inevitably adjust his perspective, even make him trust the man that little bit less. But he was compelled to keep listening regardless; he had to hear everything before he could make any judgements.

"You know how good of a rep Michael has with the staff – he prides himself on it, it's how he gets away with so much," Dean nodded without even having to think. Everyone assumed he was such a perfect guy, a 'delightful individual' as he'd heard someone put it. 'Just a pride to the community'. But there was a darkness, a seedy underbelly that he hid so well from the world. "Well, one way or another, I'm not sure how – he saw the disk. He found out about the whole damn thing.

"He cornered me, and we were completely alone. He seemed like he was just confronting me, but it got pretty violent. He was beating me, I mean, I can put up a fight, but not against that guy. He was so angry I could feel it vibrating off of him, but he didn't shout, everything he said was so quiet but that just seemed to make it more terrifying. And I thought he was done, I thought he was going to leave me to bleed – like me walking into this guy's classroom the next day being covered in cuts and bruises would be enough to keep the professor satisfied that Michael had done him a solid. But he hadn't finished. I couldn't see much anymore, when I got to the emergency room, I had a broken rib, a broken finger, and a hairline fracture on my skull from where he'd been kicking and stamping on me… but he wasn't finished.

"He said something," Cas had been speaking so quickly, but his voice suddenly was slow and quiet, like a slight breeze could whisk it away, "he told me he was going to fuck me, like I'd fucked him, like the whore I was, that I deserved it."

He shook his head, and if Dean hadn't been staring at him so intently, he wouldn't have noticed the tear curving down the slope of his nose and dropping on the table he was leaning over. "I don't get why he was so involved, I didn't ask him. Maybe he owed this guy a favour, maybe he found out and offered it in exchange for some similar deal that I had made. It didn't matter, he left me there, bleeding and bruised and broken.

"I wished I was dead."

He almost wanted to tell Cas to stop, to reach over and just hold him. But he was too focused on the story, he needed to know it all, and keep his promise to never bring it up again. So he waited quietly for Cas to speak again. And after a few minutes he did, "clearly something happened with Michael that night. I don't think he even knew he was gay until that happened. But he was following me then, I noticed him out of the corner of my eye, everywhere I went. It was a week later that he dragged me into his car, and he slammed his damn mouth against mine. I was too scared to do anything. Every time I saw him it just reminded me…" he trailed off and stopped for another moment, "he made me… suck him off there and then," his voice was so numb, he barely moved and yet he spat that word out like it tasted vile, "it seemed to go like that for a while. He took all of the anger he had for himself out on me, like it was my fault. But I was powerless. I couldn't do a damn thing."

He shrugged slightly, "but I had an idea. You know, he had that reputation, but he was just like everyone he singled out. He had that 'weakness', and I was the only proof. So I tried to pull the same trick twice, and get some hard evidence of what he was doing to me. But… it didn't work out quite so well second time around.

"He found the camera, and he beat me around again. He told me that if I ever tried to expose him, if I ever told anyone, if I ever tried to run from him – he would kill me. He had proof that I was using personal files of the staff to cheat through my courses, and if he let that out, I'd get kicked out, I wouldn't be allowed to sit an exam ever again. I'd lose everything. So he had me trapped.

"He _has_ trapped me."

There was silence for a few more minutes, and Cas finally looked up, searching Dean's face for some clue as to how he was feeling. And truth be told, Dean had no idea how to feel. The weight on his shoulders only seemed to grow with every word he had spoken. Him confiding all of this was a sign that he was finally reaching out, that he was admitting that he needed help and he needed someone to fix things for him. But suddenly Dean wasn't so sure if he was the guy to do anything.

Cas obviously saw this in his face and he immediately snapped back and shook his head, starting to stand, "I'm sorry, I should have never told you any of this, you'll never see me the same way again."

"No, no, wait," Dean caught his hand and Cas flinched. He swallowed, but didn't let go until the man met his eye and slowly took his seat again opposite Dean. Still his hand rested on Cas', the touch of his skin making him more certain, and the conviction showed when he spoke again, "I'm going to get you out of this, Cas; there're people who want to help you."

He snorted, a little undignified but he still seemed to look slightly hopeful, "who would want to help me?"

"Well, me for a start," Dean snapped, "and there's Gabe and Jo and Anna – Sammy, as well. We can fix this."

"They don't even know me."

"Well I know you, and they know me. Come on, Cas. You wouldn't have told me this if you didn't want my help."

"I told you this to show you that you can't help me."

"That's bull," Dean said, his voice gruff with seriousness, "just say yes, and I'll do everything I can to get you free," he said, and then added after a pause, "please."

Cas chewed on his lip for a moment before he finally nodded, "yeah."

"Okay, good," he said, with the beginnings of a genuine smile. And that was the first step, getting Cas to admit that he needed help, and getting his permission to do something about it. The hard part would come in trying to come up with a plan to get Michael out of his life. But Dean couldn't help the sudden weight on his shoulders with the knowledge he now possessed. And even though it seemed an impossible problem, he had to help Cas. Knowing what he knew, it was an obligation.

His eyes reached up to meet Cas', and he just stared for a moment. He had to be careful with his features around such a fragile person, but inside he couldn't stop himself from feeling scared, from feeling regret and helplessness. It was horrible, but though he knew he was the only shoulder Cas had, sharing a burden wasn't the best feeling for the recipient.


	24. A Question

**AN: Hey look guys, I'm finally progressing the story. Now hold still while I drag you all through a war-zone of pain and feelings. You asked for it. No more happiness. For weeks now. Enjoy~**

**Chapter Twenty-Three**

Dean sat in his lecture, hands pressed together with his head resting on them. He was so deep in thought that the words of the professor just seemed to drift right over him, but in such a large class it would be hard to notice that he hadn't written a single note down since he arrived. He was mulling over conversations he had had, not just with Cas, but with Michael and Gabe and Anna – everyone he had come across in the past few months. He wasn't as crafty as Cas and Michael, his plans were a lot more 'guns blazing' than their 'sleight of hand' schemes. He knew he couldn't do this alone, but artefacts from conversations resonated in his mind, Gabe telling him he would help, that they weren't alone in this; Anna's enthusiasm when she had found out who he was, her knowledge of the show and sympathy… he had listed her name to Cas along with the others, but only now was he actually considering filling her in to try and get her help. Sam was there for him, the kid was _always _there for him, and he knew that he could count on him for this. The same went for Jo.

He nodded to himself, dropping his pensive pose having decided what to do. He would have to approach them all fill them in with as much detail as he could while still protecting Cas and hopefully… get their help.

His eyes flashed around him as he spotted Anna and her friends; he guessed starting with her was as good a place as any. Cracking open a notepad he made some attempt at scribbling down notes before the lecture ended and he shoved everything into his bag so that he wouldn't miss her leaving. He came behind her as everyone filed out, grabbing her arm she turned to face him with some surprise but a smile painted her face and she told her friends to go ahead.

"I need to talk to you about something," he said after she had fallen into place alongside him and they had broken away from the crowd.

She flexed her eyebrows and an almost greedy look flashed across her features, "is this about the show?"

"Sort of," he said, starting to question his own judgement of character and who he deemed trust-worthy. "But I need your word that this stays between us, you can't tell anyone." He looked her dead in the eye with the most serious face he could muster, "this is serious, Anna. I need you to promise me."

Any character fell from her face and she nodded, a hesitant finger crossing her chest, "I promise," she said quietly, tilting her head ever so slightly, "what's wrong?"

Dean bit his lip for a moment and then nodded, he looked around as they continued to walk and only started when they had made it outdoors, the wide open spaces less likely to contain their voices, "you know I told you that I didn't really know Angel?" She nodded, already knowing what he was going to say judging by the look on her face, "well I do, I have done for a while."

Anna tried to repress the utter glee she was feeling, but it still managed to spill out in a pressed smile. "Tell me you two got together," she said finally, "like _together _together, because you guys are so c-"

Dean waved a hand to show her he wasn't finished, "that's not it, it's not that simple, he's in trouble. And I need help."

She became drawn and almost seemed to zoom in, waiting for him to elaborate.

"He's with someone, someone bad. And he can't get out of it. The guy tortures him, and he won't let him leave. And I can't think of a way to get Angel out of it by myself." Dean ignored the flash of amusement in Anna when he confirmed that Cas was gay and kept going. "I'm trying to find some people, some friends that can help me help him. And maybe it's pathetic but I don't have many people to call on. I was hoping you would be one of them though."

"Of course," she said, without even thinking, "I'll do anything I can… I just can't believe it. He never seems- I mean he's always so… confident on the show."

Dean shrugged, "people like him have to be able to mask themselves, he keeps it so perfectly in place when it counts."

Anna bit her lip and nodded, and then was suddenly scrambling around in her bag, pulling out a pen triumphantly and taking Dean's hand without asking. "This is my number, okay? Call me any time, anything you need," she said as she scribbled, the pen nib dragging on his skin almost painfully.

He nodded with thanks, not speaking for a moment before he finally jumped into action, a thought bursting out before he had time to process it, "I actually might call everyone together when I ask the others, just talk it all out, maybe he some ideas, you know?"

She smiled, "sounds good to me."

"Not that this isn't just delightful, but is there a reason you wanted to hang out today?" Gabriel asked, cutting right through Dean's charade of 'drinks in the park'. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, it was a nice day out anyway; he assumed it would seem innocent enough to invite his flatmate out for a few beers to sit in the sun. But of course, it was all a guise for his discussion about Gabe and Cas and Michael.

He sighed shrugging and making a 'well-you-got-me' face. "I wanted to ask you a favour."

Gabe chuckled, "is that so?"

Dean opened his mouth like he was going to speak, but then swallowed. He shouldn't be worried, Gabe was a nice guy – hell he had offered. But he was afraid the offer had only been for the sake of it, like when you say 'well, if you need anything, let me know', when you really mean 'it's nice that you're here, but don't bug me'. "You know a few weeks back, that whole Cas thing, and you said you would help out with everything?"

He nodded.

"Well, I think I might have to call in that favour."

Gabe smiled, "you're saying that like you're going to ask me to kill someone," he laughed, but then his face became serious, reflecting Dean's, "you're not going to ask me to kill someone, are you?"

Dean rolled his eyes, and he chortled, "no no, nothing like that – well, maybe – but no. I just need some friends to help me figure it out." He frowned for a moment, "hey, I was pretty drunk when you found out about this, what exactly _do _you know?"

Gabe squinted, wagging a finger as he tried to recount things in his mind, "ehh, to be honest, so was I – I just kind of got the jist of things. I know you like the guy, aaaand he's in some bad abusive relationship, but that's pretty much it."

His features pulled into a brief sturgeon-face and he nodded, "well, that's pretty much the sum of things."

"Who else knows about it?"

"Well, you, my friend Jo from back home, a girl in my class, Anna, and I'm going to tell my brother."

"So that's your A-team?"

"Essentially."

"Well, I'm happy to be 'The Face'."

Dean rolled his eyes but he couldn't help laughing, "so you're in?"

"Yeah, of course I am, man. Just let me know when it's go-time."

"Thanks," Dean said, a little too sincerely, "I'm going to get everyone together at some point, brain storm some ideas maybe."

"Does that mean I finally get to mean the illustrious Cas?"

Dean hesitated a little then, looking down with a frown, "I'm not sure if I'm going to tell him about this yet."

"How come?"

He chewed on his lip for a moment before looking up again, meeting Gabe's eyes, but his own seemed a little broken, "I don't want to get his hopes up yet."

Dean went home that weekend, determined to get everyone together as soon as he could, the faster he worked to get a plan together, the less pain Cas would have to endure. He jumped on the next bus to his hometown and was welcomed by a pleasantly surprised family. He had to admit, it was nice to be home again, though the last time he had opted to return, he hadn't been in the best condition and they all seemed to be a little wary at first, Mary even holding his face in her hands and staring him in the eyes with an intense gaze filled with motherly-caution for quite a while before she finally pulled him into a warm embrace. Sammy seemed pleased to see him too, he missed the little guy, more so now that he was back and realised that the tug he had been feeling all that time was because he wasn't with his brother.

He sort of hated the fact that he came back with an ulterior motive to seeing his family, and he hated that he was laying this on Sam, but he needed his brother and he didn't doubt that the kid would do whatever he asked. The only worry came with the possibility that he might figure out that he liked Cas. He didn't quite know how the little guy would react to something like that.

First chance he got he called Sammy into his room to have a chat, and he picked up quickly on the seriousness in Dean's tone, sitting quietly on his bed without any struggle. "What's wrong?" he asked softly, looking up at his big brother with those doe eyes of his.

"I need your help, Sammy," he said with a slight nod, sitting opposite him.

"What's wrong?" he repeated, his brow furrowing slightly.

Dean's face contorted for a second as he tried to think of the right words, which was ridiculous considering he'd been planning out every scenario in his head on the bus-ride home. "I have this friend back at KU, and he's in some trouble-"

"Okay, Dean, you know the 'I have this friend' thing is totally overplayed and transparent, right? If it's you, just say," Sam deadpanned.

Dean knocked him playfully over the head, "stop being such a smart-ass, it's not me. His name's Cas, he's a guy I know from college, okay?"

Sam rubbed his head, pulling a trademark bitchface but he nodded for Dean to continue.

"Well, the guy he's with," he watched Sam's expression, but if the idea that one of Dean's friend's was gay phased the kid, he didn't show it, "is kind of abusive. And he's trapped Cas in the relationship, he can't get out – and no one knows, apart from me and now you and a few of my friends."

"I'm trying to get some people, let them know and try to help him."

"And you need me?" Sam asked.

Dean nodded, a tiny smile breaking his serious expression, "you, and I'm going to talk to Jo. And I've got two friends back at KU who agreed as well. But you're a smart kid, and you're loyal, and I want you to help us get some ideas together to fix this for Cas."

Sam nodded, as if he understood something that had gone unsaid, but he finally just said, "yeah, of course. Anything you need."

"Well, first of all – you can't tell anyone, even mom and dad. If we meet up at KU, you have to just tell them you're coming for a visit. I'll come pick you up, or maybe Jo can give you a ride."

Sam laughed but it almost sounded more like an amused 'hmph', "it's like I'm joining some secret society."

"You're such a nerd."

Jo would be the easiest to convince, he knew that because she knew the most about his situation and she'd been more than supportive this far. He had perched himself on the wall outside her mom's house like he used to when they were kids and he was waiting for her. A hand pressed into the brick at either side of him, he looked up at the sun, feeling its heat against his face and enjoying feather touch of the rays.

"You look like a daisy," Jo said, leaning against the wall next to him.

"Funny," he said dryly, in playful humour as he opened his eyes and looked down at her.

"How come you're back in town? More trouble in paradise?"

He shrugged and she climbed up beside him, "what's up?"

"We're making a move on the whole 'Cas' thing," he said. He'd been keeping her up-to-date, and she listened to the show every once in a while too, so she was the most informed on the situation outside of the immediate circle.

"Oh yeah?" she asked with surprise. "What's the catalyst there?"

"He told me."

Her eyebrows raised in further surprise, "seriously?"

"Yup," he replied with a nod, "to the last gory detail."

"And everything's still alright between you guys?"

Dean took a breath, he wasn't quite decided on that himself, not that he would let Cas know that. But he'd been struggling with what the guy had told him, it had changed his perspective of him and he was adjusting to that. He didn't like having his opinion changed of people – but that was more when people spread rumours of his friends and made him see them in a different light. This was Cas pinning a spotlight above himself and revealing all. "I can't help it changing my opinion of him, but I'm sticking this one through."

Jo smiled, one corner of her mouth jerking up, "good, you like this guy too much to let his past stand in the way."

"Unfortunately that's not what's standing in the way though, is it?"

"No, I guess not. That douche Michael is."

"Exactly."

"So, have you got a plan?"

"Well, no. But that's what I need your help with, and Sammy and Gabe and Anna."

"You told them all?"

"Well, I told them he was in a tight spot and needed help. I don't think I should have them as informed as you, to protect Cas. But they'll need to know a bit more before we can come up with some plan to get Michael out of his life."

"So you've started a free-Cas Club?"

Dean rolled his eyes, "yeah, I guess you could put it that way."

"I'm in."

"I didn't give you a choice."

"Don't be a jerk," Jo warned him, sticking her tongue out after. "What do we do first then?"

Dean leered at her playfully for a moment before going serious again. "I guess we bring everyone together and hash it all out, get some ideas going. We have to be smart to outfox Michael. But I think we can do it."

Jo pressed her lips together nodding, and her face was an open book reading 'this could work'. "Well then," she said, with the beginnings of a grin, "avengers assemble."


	25. A Congregation

**Chapter Twenty-Four**

"So who is it we're waiting for?" Gabe asked, face smooshed into his hand like he was dying from boredom, in-between shovelling his mouth full of sweets and candy.

"My friend and my brother from back home," Dean supplied, eyes flickering over to Anna across the table who had been unusually quiet, stuck behind her phone which provided an omniscient glow across her features making her seem ghoulish and unsavoury.

"Younger brother?"

"Yeah, I only have one – Sam."

"Right," Gabe said, apparently having exhausted that conversation. "What age is he?" Apparently not.

"He's four years younger than me," he said absently as he pulled out his phone. "They're here," he informed the others as he stood to go and let them in.

Jo greeted him with a hug and Sam followed suit, they made some small talk 'how are you's' and that sort of thing on the way back to the common room which was to become Team Free-Cas Headquarters. "Jo, Sam, this is Anna and Gabe." Dean hated these introductions, they always seemed so awkward and strange, especially in social situations, nine times out of ten, if he was introduced to a bunch of people at once he forgot their names almost instantly anyway. But he supposed it was necessary in this case, they had to know eachother and stay close, but they didn't have much time to bond, he wanted to give everyone whatever information he could and get down to brass tacks.

So he filled them in with anything they needed to know, leaving out parts about his own feelings for the guy and specifics about what Michael had done to Cas, only pieces of how it had happened and what was happening now, "and we need to find a way to get him out of it."

They nodded, processing everything in their own ways. Jo knew it all already, but Anna and Sam seemed appalled and Gabe was finally silent. "So, anyone have any ideas off the bat?" Dean asked sheepishly, hoping someone would just _have _the solution and they could move onto the next stage swiftly. But of course, he wasn't stupid enough to think that would happen.

"I guess we have to be crafty, like you said. Beat him at his own game," Anna said thoughtfully.

"I wouldn't mind taking a swing at the guy," Jo mumbled, almost to herself. Dean raised an eyebrow, "my thoughts exactly. But coming at him like that will just get all of his little cronies on your tail."

Sam was watching Gabe a little distantly as the other guy started eating again, but he had his squinty-face-of-deep-concentration on, so he could only assume he was more focused on finding a solution.

Dean clasped his hands together, he'd been wracking his brain for ideas for weeks now, but had come up with squat that he thought wouldn't do more harm than good. That was why he needed these guys, he needed a fresh perspective. And ideally some people with a few more brain cells than he had.

"Can't we just report him to the police or something?"

"He'd only let his evidence of Cas cheating exams go public and he would get kicked out of the school system, probably banned from sitting exams under those boards again, and then were would he be?"

"Well he'd be free at least."

"I guess… let's call that plan B."

"We don't even have a plan A yet."

"Better get cracking then," Dean snapped.

"What about recording him in the act and using it to blackmail him?" Gabe offered eventually.

"Cas already did that, it's what got him deeper into this mess in the first place."

"Can we use the show?" Sam said quietly after a long time of being silent.

"Huh?"

"Well, you said his show has a pretty big fan base, right? So what if we used those fans to help Cas; like they do on those public appeals for charities and different causes?"

Dean pursed his lips as he considered that, he was right in a manner of speaking, "yeah, but how?"

"I don't know… if he told everyone live on air that he was in an abusive relationship, but didn't reveal who, word would spread pretty quickly – and since no one knows who he is on the show, it wouldn't affect him in real life. And then when everyone knew about it, he could shame Michael publically to the whole school – teachers and students and everyone."

Dean shook his head, "no, that'd get him in the same mess as it would if we called the cops."

Sam made a face, "I'm not saying that has to be the whole plan – just a layer of it. We could do something to Michael too. Destroy his evidence, or mess with his status or something, you know?"

Anna clicked her fingers, "I know someone who could do that!"

"Do… what?" Dean asked cautiously.

"Hack into his files, wipe his hard drive or whatever. And I mean, he must keep all of his stuff here, right? Because he stays here over the holidays and stuff, he doesn't go home, so he must live here full time."

"So we destroy his evidence, what if he has people lined up to testify?"

"The only legit source he could have would be that teacher that caught Cas, right? And if Cas still has the tape he used to blackmail him in the first place, we can just use that as a weight to keep him quiet."

"I guess…"

Gabe had noticed Sam staring at him and slid a candy-bar across the table to him with a smirk, Sam smiled back and Dean glowered. But he quickly snapped himself back to his last train of thought.

"Michael seems to build his relationships with the staff and abuse the privileges," Jo pondered aloud, "maybe we can exploit that, get a few of them on our side if we find out who he really pressures. If he keeps stuff about them on his hard drive we can find out who he takes advantage of the most and try to get them on our side with the promise of cutting his bind on them."

It seemed mutually agreed around the table that the plan was definitely coming together, and they all shared that sense of accomplishment that came with their cunning scheme.

"What about all of his lackies then? The people who do the legwork."

"Well I'm sure they only leech off of him because of his power around the school, once we start to take away his relationships with the staff, most of the student body will see how weak his is and stop hiding how much they hate him, everyone will turn on him once he's weak."

Dean smiled for a moment, enjoying the idea that they might actually be capable of doing all of this, "Anna, can you talk to your friend then; get her to access his files and find out what he has on staff and students?"

"Of course," she said with a devious grin.

"And when the time is right, we can erase it all. Just wipe his power." A smile grew on all of their faces, Sam and Gabe's slightly chocolaty, but intact nonetheless.

"Guys, we could actually do this."

"We will, and we will _enjoy _fucking Michael's shit up," Gabe said with a smirk.

Dean's smile faded slightly as he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, he drifted from the conversation to pull it out and check it. "Speak of the Devil…" he mumbled mostly to himself, seeing Cas' name pop up on the screen which was cracked from years of wear and tear; serving as proof that he was manly and did things, like fixing cars and climbing trees and other such dangerous things that might end in a scared phone. His finger's navigated the buttons with some lazy expertise that came from having the same phone for the majority of his teenaged life.

'Come meet me.

I need to talk to you.

I'm at the park.'

Dean grinned a little, which Jo obviously noticed as she poked him in the stomach. He looked up, pouting slightly, and swatted her hand away. "I think I can safely assume that's him texting you?" she asked with a smug little face.

"Yeah, it's him. He wants me to go meet up with him."

Jo leaned over to read the text and then made an exasperated face at him, "so what are you still doing here?" Dean looked at the others who had seemed to have sectioned off in their own conversation's since he had phased out, his eyes lingered cautiously on Gabe and Sammy who seemed to be discussing their hair by the way that they kept swishing it as they got more excited by the conversation. "I can take Sammy back, it's fine. We're done here guys, right?" Her voice grew louder for the last part as she addressed everyone and they all seemed to agree. Jo turned back to him with a soft smile, "go on, lover-boy."

He raised a finger, warning her, "don't call me that."

"Yeah, yeah, tough-guy, I'm so scared," she teased and he started to stand. Jo caught his hand and he turned to her again, "are you going to tell him about all this."

"I guess I'll have to eventually anyway." He paused, mulling it over for a brief moment, "but maybe not yet."

She nodded and smiled, "have fun. I'll look after Sam."

As he grabbed his stuff and left the building, Dean wondered what Jo's idea of him and Cas 'having fun' actually was. That being said, he was feeling pretty good. Making headway on 'the Cas situation', as it seemed to be referred to, was helping him get over how the confession had changed his perspective of him. He found himself walking at a pretty brisk pace, eager to see Cas again and just get to hear that voice. And he'd been worried for so long that hearing it again would bring back those same feelings of change and regret he had been drowned in the last time they'd spoken. And with Christmas coming up fast, he just needed to mend this bridge before the term ended.

Even if Cas had no suspicions of Dean's previous change of heart in regards to their relationship. Whatever it was.

His eyes searched eagerly through the dusk as he entered the park. It was abandoned as far as he could see. The sun was almost completely below the horizon making the treeline less of a silhouette and more of a looming presence encasing him. He chewed on his lip and started up the path hoping his friend would be somewhere nearby waiting for him.

He caught the flicker of a flame not so far off, and as he got closer he could see someone crouched in front of it, with their back to him. About Cas' size he guessed, so it was obviously him. He smiled, feeling that familiar rush that came with laying eyes on Cas and knowing he would speak soon with those gravelly tones and stare at him with those deep blue eyes. He found himself longing for it sometimes, just wishing he could remember the intricacies that made the man who he was, those perfect imperfections that he could never quite call to mind when alone, no matter how hard he tried.

"Cas," he said with a smile, and warmth in his voice only rivalled by the fire burning before them.

The figure swung around to face him, staying crouched, "not quite."

There was a sharp blow to the back of Dean's head, and he felt himself falling.

Falling.

_Falling._


	26. Another Confrontation

**24 and 25! Double Update! Who loves you guys? Dats right. Angel loves you 3 Sorry for what follows though…**

**Chapter Twenty-Five**

Something connected with his side, blunt and hard, and it brought him back. Eyes blurring as he dragged them open and tried to figure out if he was sitting or standing or lying down; but his head just kept spinning, a groggy soup of confusion.

"Well, well, sleeping beauty – you put up way more of a fight last time, love turned you soft?"

That voice. That fucking distinct voice. So strange and gruff and twisting; like a snake in a fire. He knew who it was immediately and he could safely guess who was with him, and the thought made bile rise in his throat. Or maybe… no. That was blood. He rolled onto his side, spitting up copper hacks that left crimson ribbons streaming from his mouth that he couldn't seem to muster the strength to get rid of. He managed to sit up, and yes. There they were.

"Ali and Zach was it?" he said, some defiance still left in his weak voice.

"Aww, you remember us – I'm touched." Zach, his voice was softer but just as threatening in its own way, like a possessed teddy bear.

His head had such a sharp, throbbing pain he just couldn't comprehend the reality of the situation, he couldn't take it seriously at all because this driving hurt was taking over every element of him. It felt like something was pulling on the tendons behind his eyes and making it almost impossible to see properly. The two figures before him were shadow puppets before the flames, with the reds and oranges of the fire casting dangerous colours that curved around the sides of their faces and illuminated the threat in their expressions.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" he asked, his eyelids drooping slightly as he reached a limp arm to the back of his head, the source of the pain he thought, his hand came back bloody and caked in dirt. It took him a while to figure that his whole body was probably filthy from rolling around on the ground. Stinging. His head stung now. His eyes trailed across the forms again, Zach was holding a pipe, slightly bloodied he thought, though It could just be a stain considering how vague the light was and how blurred his vision was right then. It would take him another little while to put those two puzzle pieces together.

Ali's eyes seemed to flicker away for a moment, but maybe that was just Dean's mind playing tricks on him, their forms seemed to be wavering now anyway, like a mirage. "A little bird told me something nasty about you. I have it under good authority that you've been fucking with someone else's girl. This little birdy, he happened to snatch her phone and lead you right to us."

"Clever little thing…" Dean mumbled. Ali and Zach, the two douchebags from the station, were Michael's bitches? Why wasn't he surprised…

"Shut it, Winchester," there was that pipe, being pointed at him like it was Excalibur or some shit.

"Bad move there, kid. And now it's time for you to get your just dessert."

His eyes had slid almost completely shut, but they snapped wide when he felt his cheek split open under sheer force. There was no way he could fight back. He could barely stand. He dropped in and out of consciousness beneath a fury of heavy fists, boots connecting with his then-fragile body, maybe weapons… he didn't quite know. After a time, he didn't even have the strength to make a noise.

And eventually they stopped. But he could have sworn he heard someone order them to cease.

Dean lay there for quite some time, he didn't know how long, but there was silence. Only the crackle of the fire as it died and eventually went out, leaving him in darkness. Beyond that he could only hear the trees rustling in the breeze or the birds chattering above him. And he felt so entirely alone. It was an overwhelming feeling that consumed every inch of him and dragged him further and further down into a solitary abyss. Who did he have now to come and rescue him? He would die here, slowly and painfully. And he would die alone. Some kids would find him, maybe a dog-walker – they always find the bodies; and his family would mourn him, and Chuck would probably get straight A's for the rest of the term for sympathy. But he would be snuffed out, and after some quick memorial at school and maybe an article in the paper… he would disappear. Everything he had done up til now, everything he had worked for. It was all so he could die in the dirt like a dog, without even being able to defend himself.

Ahh no, no he wouldn't. He could feel something… warmth pressing against him. He wished he could see his saviour through his bruised eyes, but alas his victor would remain faceless for now. He was soaring now, not falling and he tried to curve his cracked lips into a bloody smile, but he couldn't be sure if it translated. Perhaps he wasn't literally soaring, he thought maybe he was just getting a head-rush from being stood up. But in his head, he was flying. There was such a glorious sun glimmering over a vast ocean below as he flew higher and higher into the sky. He didn't know how he was doing it, but he didn't quite want to question it. He was just too happy.

A thunderstorm. Well, wasn't that just the way his world worked? Of course he would get one moment in the sun before the Heaven's came crashing down in a torrent around him. He felt a jolt and coughed into consciousness, but he still couldn't see anything. He spluttered for a few moments more before he dozed off again.

He didn't dream that time. In fact, it was so brief, it felt like he had only blinked. He couldn't quite understand why he couldn't blink properly though, it was like he could open his eye, but nothing happened when he did. He wondered with confusion if it was dark wherever he was, and for a flash of a second he thought maybe he was in Hell. But that passed when his eyelid snapped open, apparently having wired shut with something gross. It took a while for that one eye to adjust. There was light after all, a lot of it. He was in an all-white room, and the light seemed to reflect off of every surface giving it a dreamy iridescent effect.

"Oh crap, I'm dead."

Were those his words? Yes. That was his voice. Why did he sound like his vocal chords had had a fight with a blender?

"Dean?" Another voice that sounded much the same, but in a cooler way. "Dean, you're awake. Thank God… are you okay? Well no, of course you're not that's a stupid questi-"

"Cas?" he said, surprised that such a weak voice cut through that deep turret of words. He'd never quite heard him this flustered. He must look pretty bad. "What happened? Where am I?"

Cas was leaning over him, he could just make out his form despite the window behind him that was blinding Dean a little. "You're in the hospital, you got beaten pretty bad… I'm so sorry."

Dean wagged a weak hand at him, why was he apologizing? He wasn't there. Right? No he was… was he? "My head…"

He seemed to smile, "they have you on some pretty strong shit. I'm not surprised."

"Jealous?"

"Always."

"How did I get here?" he asked after a moment, having lost track of the conversation.

"Jo told me where you were," Cas said, his voice sounding heavy with guilt. "She had my show on in the car when she was taking your brother home, and texted in. She asked how our date had gone, and I didn't know what she was talking about so she called me when I had a song on and… I ran out to find you as soon as I could… but they'd already left you like this and… Jesus, Dean, I'm so sorry."

Dean was silent trying to process all of that, cringing slightly at the idea that Jo was trying to force them together, calling it a date. But thankfully Cas had spared him that shame by referring to it so insouciantly.

"Michael stole your phone," he said eventually, starting to recall what Ali and Zach had told him, piecing things together through the foggy haze of his memory.

Cas didn't say anything for a moment and then he offered, "I left it at his. It must have fallen out of my pocket."

"Right."

There was a silence between them, and Dean wasn't sure if he fell asleep again, but when he opened his eyes, Cas was still standing there. "So, he knows?"

"What is there to know? That you talk to me? Our texts, which I assume he read, they're pretty innocent."

Dean couldn't help but feel the heartbreak that echoed inside of him then. Cas didn't think there was anything between them. He was just a friend, someone to help him through this stage of his life. And okay, he was. But there had been that moment. That moment when they almost kissed. He thought there was more to them than that, but maybe all this time he'd been inventing the subtext to placate himself and justify his feelings.

"Yeah," was all he managed to say.

Cas watched him for a moment, trying to find something in Dean's expression, but his face was too bashed and he was too doped up to really show anything. He started shaking his head and took a step away, "this is my fault, I shouldn't have dragged you into this. Maybe we shouldn't see eachother anymore."

"Are you kidding me?" Dean heard himself say before he could even think it, and there was probably more aggression in his voice than there should have been. Cas' eyes shot to his in a moment of panic and disbelief. "After all of this, you just want to call it quits on _everything_? We've gotten this far, I'm not letting you back off now. If he knows, he knows, it's only more reason for us to find a way out – because there's no getting out of his bad books for me now."

"I'm sorry."

"I know." He said, and he was going to leave it there, before he added, "but we can do this, together."

He nodded and a little smile graced his lips, and he sat at the window, letting the light encase him so perfectly; glistening against his porcelain skin and as he turned his head to expose that beautiful slender neck, his eyes almost seemed to sparkle.

"Ouch, ouch, fuck."

He snapped back to look at Dean, ready to jump up if needs be, "what's wrong?"

"Just… eh… sore spot," he said, looking away from Cas and trying to relax himself.

_Mould. Spiders. Dead puppies. Carrot-top. Bad paint job. Old oil…_

"I'm fine, sorry."

"You know, sometimes I feel like I'm an old man, watching back my life."

"What?" Dean asked, looking across to Cas who was lying opposite him on the hospital bed, head-toeing it.

"You know the way they say when you die, you have like six or seven minutes of brain activity left before it shuts down with everything else?"

"Uh, no… but go on."

"Well, think about it. You fall asleep at ten-twenty, and you have a really long intricate dream, you know? And you wake up and it's ten-twenty-two. Six or seven minutes could be a whole other life. So what if what's happening right now, is really just you dreaming this whole life while you're dying. Or dead. Whatever."

Dean frowned, "I thought I was the one strung-out on drugs."

Cas chuckled, "but seriously."

"You would really dream yourself in all of this?"

"I guess you just go with what you think might be reality. You follow social rules and meet some bad people, just like you would in waking life."

"I don't know, if I could dream myself a whole other life, I would have superpowers or be rich or something – not in a hospital."

"Yeah, but maybe our real lives are so horrible and basic that these lives _are _a huge improvement?"

"Then I'm glad we're dying."

Cas smiled, but it seemed a little distant. "Yeah, me too."


	27. An Idea

**Chapter Twenty-Six**

The hospital was never quiet. If it wasn't the guy across the hall choking his lungs up, it was the old lady in the room next to his whose hearing aid battery must have died, giving her free reign to watch crappy daytime TV at full volume. But it wasn't just the patients, no, it was the nurses and doctors, the _click click_ of pens and charts, the hum of the fluorescent lights, the tap of shoes on the hard linoleum floors. Dean only noticed all of this when he was alone though, and Cas seemed to have made it his personal mission to keep his friend company as often as he was allowed. Strung up on the crisp white sheets, he wondered how much Cas was sacrificing to be here every day, from visiting hours opened til they closed. Not that he would complain, because quite frankly, seeing that blue-eyed boy was the highlight of his day.

"What did you tell the cops?" he asked casually one day, thumbing through one of the books that the nurses had left in his room to help him pass the time.

"The truth," Dean replied easily, "I was supposed to meet you in the park, you were late, I got jumped and lay there until you found me."

He looked up with a raised eyebrow, "you mentioned me specifically?"

"Well no, otherwise they would have questioned you too."

"What about the guys?"

"They haven't got them yet, I could only give them their first names and fairly accurate descriptions – it's the local Police Department, they'll probably never string it together. I did mention that they'd attacked me and Jo before though. Said that's why they jumped me, probably a vendetta."

Cas snorted ungraciously at the police quip, but there was an unsettled look on his face for a fleeting moment. "What do we do about Michael?"

"Well, from what tweedle-dee and tweedle-dum told me, he knows I text you, probably knows I call into the show. Wants me to back off, I guess."

"Do you think we should?"

Dean shot a harsh look at the other, "I swear you need to stop talking like that, he already knows so there's nothing we can do to fix that. Maybe we can just make it look like he managed to scare me and buy us some time."

"How?"

"Well, I'd say you should start wiping your messages, change my name on it maybe. But mostly, how about the next time you're on the air, we make a bit of a scene?"

Cas cocked his head to one side with a hint of a frown, "what do you mean?"

"Well, I make it out like what happened to me was your fault, have an argument with you on-air, and stop calling in."

Cas chewed on his lip then, looking down at the book again, but Dean could tell he wasn't reading.

He frowned, trying to prop himself up further to get a better look at the guy's face, but he wasn't giving much away, "what?"

"I just… I don't know."

"Why? You think of something better?"

"No, I mean, no. It's a good plan, it's just…"

"What, Cas?"

He looked up finally, his face a little pink and eyes filled with guilt, "your calls are the best part of my week."

Dean breathed out, a smile pinching at his cheeks, "Cas," he breathed, eyes tracing over his features, he wanted to remember this face, "any time I see you, any time I hear you – _that's _the highlight of my week. It doesn't have to all go away, and it won't be forever; just until we fix things for you."

"And how long will that be?" Cas asked, but it wasn't a snap, it was timid and a little hopeful.

"We're working on it. Trust me."

Cas looked him in the eyes, and for a moment Dean could swear the man was looking right inside of him, analysing every particle of his being, reading his mind and his soul. He blinked, but he couldn't look away, not until he heard a voice from the door.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything…"

"Jo," Dean said with a smile, bringing his eyes to hers instead. Cas tapped the book he was holding against the bed and excused himself to let Jo have a few moments with her friend. Dean nodded to him thankfully as he left to get coffee. Though he doubted Cas would ever reduce himself to the horsepiss they sold here.

Jo smiled at Cas as he slipped past and made her way to Dean's bed. This had been the first time she had seen him since leaving the meeting-thing a few days ago. She honestly looked scared, and that was such a rare expression for her. She approached him slowly, making it all the way to the side of his bed before she smacked his arm, "why didn't you call me?" she snapped.

Dean winced, "jeez, Jo, are you serious? As if I hadn't gotten enough of a beating already…"

She pursed her lips and flopped down stubbornly into the chair Cas had pulled to his bedside. "Cas called me."

Dean nodded, "figures."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I texted you to say I was okay."

"Yeah, but you're clearly not. What happened?"

"It was those guys again, the ones who attacked us at the bus station."

"Was it a revenge thing?"

"No, Michael sent them for me, set the whole thing up, he knows Cas has been talking to me."

Jo nodded slowly as everything began to slot together in her mind. There was a silence and then she finally asked, "how bad is it?"

He shrugged meagrely, "few broken bones, ribs, fractured skull or something – they said I was concussed when I came in. Handful of stitches – nothing I can't handle."

"You have to tell your family."

"No, no," he wagged his hand at her dismissively, "there's no point in worrying them, I can take care of this, and by the time they see me at Christmas I can just tell them I got into a fight, it'll be healed enough for me to pass that off."

"Broken bones don't heal overnight."

"Look, it's fine, seriously."

Jo bit her lip, knowing she shouldn't press the matter any further. And then she spoke again, "I was thinking, about your plan?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, that girl Anna said she knew someone who could hack into Michael's things, well I totally forgot about Ash."

Ash was a kid from back home, he had been good friends with Jo and Dean when they were growing up, he had practically lived with Jo and her mom for a while when he had gotten kicked out of home and Ellen had essentially made him an honorary Harvelle. He had been obsessed with computers, and had a bright future, but he had a real problem with authority – Dean was almost certain he'd gotten a place in MIT.

"You're right, maybe we can rope him in to help lighten Anna's friend's work."

Jo smirked, "I'm glad you feel that way."

"You've already called him, haven't you?" Dean asked, though he could already tell the answer from her expression.

"Yup."

"Is he in?"

She nodded with a smug little smile and Dean shook his head, "I hope this other guy doesn't 'work alone'."

"Hmm, me too," she said vaguely, her eyes drifting across the room, but she bit her lip again and looked back at Dean, leaning forward slightly, "have you told him yet? Cas, I mean."

"I haven't had the chance, I just want things to be more set in stone before I try to get his hopes up. And I don't want him to freak out."

She nodded, and paused for a second, before she said, "have you told him… how you feel?"

Dean's head jerked a little suddenly, causing old pain to flare up, "n-no. No. God, Jo. That guy has enough on his plate without me unloading crap like that on him. If he has any more pressure he might just explode."

"Right, right, fine. I'm just saying. He deserves to know, eventually."

"Eventually, he will."

Jo's eyes turned a little sad as she stood, "just don't wait too long."

Dean nodded, but he protested when she made towards the door, "an hour-long drive and you're only staying for ten minutes?"

"I_ do_ havea life, Winchester. Maybe if you hadn't moved away I would be able to spend more time with you."

Dean couldn't help but smile at her, "don't be a stranger, okay?"

"'Course."

Jo had disappeared only a few seconds when Dean called, "how's the book?"

Cas timidly appeared around the corner, "a little dull." He said with a smile weighted with guilt, "you knew I was standing there?"

"I had my suspicions," he said shrugging, an action that he regretted a second later. "How much did you hear?"

He inclined his head to one side as he made his way back to the bed to perch on the edge next to him. "I heard something about 'feelings'," he said carefully, and Dean seized up. Cas' features turned sympathetic, and his voice became softer than usual, "I know it's difficult right now, for me and for you. But you don't have to hide things like this from me," he smiled, trying to be reassuring, "you don't have to put your life on hold just to sort out my problems."

Dean's brow furrowed in confusion, willing Cas to continue. It had started out so well, but now he was thinking that the guy had picked up the wrong end of the stick.

"I mean, if you like this person, whoever it is. You don't need my permission, and you don't have to hide it from me. Don't wait to be happy, I mean, just because things aren't great for me doesn't mean things have to suck for you too."

Dean nodded slowly, he really didn't get it. Cas was making sense, but at the same time he knew he couldn't admit anything to him until he was sure that he had real feelings, and that Cas might like him back. And he definitely didn't want to tell him until after things had settled down between Michael and him. "Actually I don't think it'll work out between me and him," Dean said, trying to match the softness of Cas' tone, "the timing ain't right."

Cas nodded slowly, obviously trying to seem understanding, looking like he didn't want to press the matter in case it upset Dean. And Dean was thankful for that, even though it wasn't the whole truth he was pressing. Dean's eyes moved away for only a few moments, but they returned to see the blue-eyed boy biting his lip, and looking down.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

Cas looked up at him, his eyes filled with worry and uncertainty, "I don't want to go back to him." He watched Dean's reaction, but saw that he had nothing to say - or at least that his battered friend didn't seem to be able to verbalize whatever he was feeling and thinking. "He obviously knows something, he's been reading my texts, maybe even listening to the show. He could have seen us together; maybe if he has these guys to beat you up, it isn't a far stretch to think he might have someone following me or you."

"Woah-woah-woah, hey," Dean said to sooth him, and calm him down. Cas hushed into a shaky silence obediently. "Look, you know if you don't go back to him he'll threaten you with whatever evidence he has."

"But if he calls me and I go, he'll beat me. Worse than before."

Dean pressed his lips into a fine line. Cas' words were so breathless and practically vibrating with fear, and this flared up a dark streak of rage in him. The thought of Michael even trying to lay a finger on Cas made him almost as angry as when he'd found out someone was picking on Sammy at school. And that kid could testify as to how angry that had been.

Still, this was a change to how Cas had reacted initially. Brushing off Dean's concern; making him think that he felt nothing, that he thought there was nothing between them other than friendship. Maybe the more he was thinking about it, the more he was worried that Michael was jealous and something worse than what happened to Dean would come of it.

"You tell me if he calls you. And if he even _tries _to hurt you, have my number on speed-dial. Call me. And I will rip his lungs out," Dean said with a quiet intensity that stilled the room.

A small smile came across Cas' lips that didn't reach his eyes, "while you're in this state?"

That made Dean stumble slightly, he had a point. Looking like road kill, he wasn't going to be much good to Cas. He nodded, and started to repeat his plan from before, knowing now more than ever that it was the best way to move forward, "it's okay, on Friday, I'll call into your show. He wants to send me a message, we'll make him think it's received," he said, speaking calmly and slowly, trying to make Cas understand everything would be fine, "I'll tell you – Angel – that I'm not going to be calling in anymore. We'll put on a play, have an argument on-air and make everyone think that we're not on friendly terms anymore. Word will spread like it always does, it'll buy us some time and keep you safe."

Cas nodded, but he didn't seem too enthusiastic.

"You don't think it'll work?"

His head tilted slightly to one side, almost a trademark motion of his, and his smile morphed into a hesitant half-smile, his lips pulling up at one corner, "no, I'm pretty sure it will work, but like I said, I just really don't want it to stop."

Hearing that again brought back a little of Dean's faith that he wasn't imagining their connection, and he nodded, "it doesn't mean we have to stop _everything_; we just need to keep a lower profile in public." He tried to return Cas' smile, but it was a little weak, "just password protect your phone. And maybe stop leaving it around."

Cas laughed through his nose, something that could almost be called a snort, "alright," he said, seeming slightly more cheered, "deal."


	28. A Discussion

**Chapter Twenty-Seven**

No matter how caged Dean felt being trapped in the Hospital, it suddenly didn't seem so bad when they told him he was ready to be discharged and he had to face the prospect of hobbling out of there; beaten and bruised, stuck in crutches. He was a walking advertisement for the consequences of crossing Michael Milton: jock, genius, legend, bully. It was shameful, to be seen in his state, he felt weak and exposed. But he needed to leave, and get out of there – because he needed to make progress on the Cas situation. He would have to call another meeting tonight, to get a move on in the first step of the plan.

Cas was coming to pick him up, but while he waited, he slipped his cell out of his pocket and leaned against the wall, watching people walking by in a world of their own as he waited for Jo to answer her phone.

"Yeah?" came her voice on the other end of the line, something about being on a phone made her accent sound much stronger.

"You think you can get a hold of Ash and come to mine tonight?"

"Yeah sure, what about Sam though?"

"School night, we should be fine without him."

"It's Friday," she said, like he had just told her that Bush was the best thing to ever happen to the US. "You just don't want him to see you like this do you?" it wasn't really a question, and Dean didn't even have to answer. "You know he won't be happy if he finds out," Jo warned him, a slight sense of mocking in her tone which helped bring to mind that awful bitch-face of his that manifested when he was pissed at Dean.

"True…" he replied slowly as he tried to think of a way around it, "call him, and ask him to get mom's permission."

"Can't you just ask her?" Jo asked reluctantly.

"I don't want to talk to her right now."

"How come?" he could tell Jo was frowning from her tone of voice.

Dean paused for a moment before he replied, his voice getting a little quieter, "she'll ask if I'm okay, and I don't want to have to lie to her."

Jo was silent for a few seconds before she spoke again, sounding firmer, "alright then, I'll give them a call. See you tonight, what time?"

"Make it about eight or nine," he said, "and tell Ash to bring his laptop gear."

"No problem," she said, "see you then."

He called Anna briefly afterwards with the same message for her and her own hacker friend. Gabe would be in the flat anyway, and he could see him when he got home to arrange things. Hopefully they would get a jump in progress after tonight, and if things went smoothly, he could tell Cas finally.

The blue Caddy pulled up in front of him and Cas got out with the engine running to help Dean get in. Like he was Bambi learning to walk. They pulled away and a silence slipped between them from Cas concentrating on driving, "how does it feel to be out?"

"I wasn't in prison, Cas," Dean chuckled. Cas joined in, but then the silence fell again. It wasn't exactly an uncomfortable silence, just something that made Dean feel like he was obligated to fill in with casual conversation. "Tonight's the night," he said, staring out of the front window distantly, okay, so that was a little deeper than "so how about that weather", but he'd never been great at small-talk.

"Yeah, I guess it is," Cas replied softly.

They both knew it; tonight was the night they had arranged Demon would call into the show and have an on-air argument with Angel. Tonight would be the beginning in a sequence of events that he hoped would spark a change in Cas' life for good. Dean just hoped it would be for the better. Because he wasn't aware of the whole plan, to Cas ,this was the end of something. To Dean, this was the beginning.

It was frustrating for him not being able to get a solid read on Cas, and actually pin down his feelings towards Dean – if he had any. There were moments when he thought for certain that there was something more between them, and other times when he felt like he was being distant and callous. Dean's feelings towards Cas, he thought, had become so increasingly strong because he just wanted what he couldn't have. Because the other boy had so much on his plate, and may well still be under some vague impression that Dean was entirely straight, or that he was helping him simply because he was his friend; he seemed to show little interest back, only now and again would it unintentionally slip. Or so Dean liked to think. But after trying to decide if he did like Cas that way for months, he had found himself throwing away all uncertainty simply because he just wanted to be wanted. And a certain breed of passionate love was growing from that.

And it scared him.

He had never wanted someone so badly since he was a little kid and he had had a crush on a girl in his class. And no matter how much he pulled on her pigtails and called her names, she never showed any interest in him. Since then he had never tried, and the less he tried, the more girls seemed to throw themselves at him. It was such a peculiar way for the world to work. "Oh, that person's attractive, better show them no interest whatsoever so they'll like me back." If people were upfront, things would be much simpler.

"You okay?" Cas asked, absently as he took a corner.

"Yeah, I'm fine, just glad to be out of the Hospital."

Soon he would be able to tell Cas everything about their plan for him, to free him. And with the first few steps already taken, maybe he would be less likely to scare and try to back out. But at least at this point, if Michael threatened him, if he suspected something was going on, Cas wouldn't have to lie.

They pulled up outside Dean's place and Cas finally looked across to him, "you need help getting in?"

"No," he replied with a hint of knowing to his smile, "I'll be fine." He was more than aware that if Cas was seen helping him now it would ruin their plan for tonight. Even him being brought this close to the campus was a risk. If he'd been paying attention to the road and not shrouded in his own thoughts he might have had the sense to tell him to let him out up the block.

Cas nodded and pulled Dean's crutches out of the back seat, and watched helplessly as he got out of the car. Dean leaned on the roof, ducking to look back in, "I'll talk to you tonight, I guess."

"Yeah, I'll hear from you then," he said solemnly.

He pressed his lips into a reassuring smile, "I'll call you after the show, for real, okay?"

"Okay."

Slamming the door, he watched Cas drive off before he looked around him and started to make his way back home. Of course he had to live on the second floor. _Of course._

"Dude you look… great."

"Thanks, Gabe," Dean replied dryly to the boy who was peeking around his door.

"What's the plan for tonight?" he asked, the goofy smile erasing everything as he bounced onto the end of Dean's bed, making him wince. Gabe looked at him apologetically before Dean leered and answered.

"Anna and Jo and bringing some computer nerds, at around eight," he said eventually, "gonna hit stage one like we said the last time."

"Is your brother coming?" Gabe asked innocently.

"Y-yeah, he is," Dean passed a sceptical eye over Gabe, "dude, you know he's just a kid right? You start acting like Michael Jackson, and I'm gonna have to hurt you."

"Not in this state you're not," Gabe laughed, and then he held up a finger and his face grew serious, "and MJ was only _accused _of that."

"Not my point."

"Chill, Winchester, I'm not some weirdo. He just reminds me of myself at that age."

"I doubt that, unless someone dropped a brick on your head between then and now."

"What're you trying to say?"

"That he's a smart kid."

"And I'm not?"

"Nope."

Dean and Gabe shared a look for a moment and then both began to laugh.

"We're always waiting on _someone_," Gabe moaned, plopping his feet on the table and tipping himself back on his chair. Ash shot a glare at him when his feet came dangerously close to his things, taking up half of the surface of the table.

He turned to Dean with a shrug, "I can get this show on the road, it really ain't a two person job." He snorted, his voice dropping slightly as he turned back to his computer, "the guy'll probably just slow me down anyways."

"Anna said they're on their way," Dean reassured him, checking his cell again without even noticing he was doing it. "We can't all arrive at the same time," he mumbled.

"Could at least try to arrive _on _time."

Dean didn't respond, he just flexed his fingers and scratched at the table. For a few moments the only sound was Ash tapping at his keyboard, but it was suddenly intersected by that obnoxious buzzer noise that Dean had never been happier to hear, "thank God," he said mostly to himself as he started to get up.

"I'll let them in, hop-along," Gabe snapped, uncurling himself from his lazy position and making his way out of the room. He returned a minute later with Anna followed closely behind by the other hacker guy and-

"You're not a guy," Dean said with a frown before he could stop himself.

"No shit, Sherlock," the redhead chuckled. Other redhead. Girl-who-wasn't-Anna.

"Guys, this is Charlie," Anna smiled, cutting through the slack-jawed looks most of the guys in the room were giving. All except Ash who had barely cast a glance their way yet.

"Try using personal pronouns next time," Dean muttered, as Charlie plopped her stuff next to Ash and he finally looked up.

"Is that all you've got?" he asked, slightly cocky.

"That's all I _need_," she retorted with a wink. She was a complete nerd, that was for sure – from the Leia Rebel shirt to the thick-rimmed glasses, but in kind of a… hot way.

"I guess we should get started then," Jo said as Anna took a seat between her and Charlie.

After Dean explained to the new recruits what the plan was, the conversation between the techies was a bit of a blur to him. He picked up on key words, but the rest may as well have been Elfish for all he knew. What he did pick up on was the competition between Ash and Charlie as they fought to the finish line, breaking through fiery walls and downloading the internet and updating intranets and… yeah, he wasn't big on technology if it didn't have four wheels and an engine. He wasn't sure the others were exactly as computer-savvy as he was because gradually they seemed to break off into separate conversations, though he could see Sammy edging closer to Ash, trying to sneak a peek at what they were doing, and Gabe kept trying and failing to hold his attention with lame jokes and goofy faces.

"You keep checking your phone," Jo said, her brow creased with concern.

Dean snapped out of it, looking around him as if he couldn't quite remember where he was for a moment before his gaze met hers, "do I?"

She nodded to his hand, and he found himself clutching his cell, "oh."

"Is something wrong?"

"No, I just…" he sighed and rolled his lips, "I have to call in to the show tonight, and have a fight with Angel. Make it seem like I'm blaming him for what happened in the park, so Michael thinks I've taken the hint. Clearly someone listens to the show if it isn't him. I'm just trying to buy us some time here."

"What, so you guys won't be able to talk on the show anymore?"

"No, probably not."

"That's probably a good idea."

Dean looked at her, surprised.

"Well, it's getting close to the wire, it's too dangerous for you guys to even be seen hanging out together anymore."

He nodded slightly, "I guess so."

"If you want to go ahead, I can handle things here, though I think Neo and Trinity have things under control."

Dean smiled and nodded, though he had to admit he was reluctant to leave, knowing what had to be done. "Link and Tank," he said as he stood, leaning on his crutches.

"Huh?"

"The operators on Morpheus' ship were Link and Tank."

"You're such a geek," Jo retorted as Dean started to hobble away, earning her two brief glares from Ash and Charlie as they continued on their conquest to attain all of Michael's dirty information. Dean turned back one last time, hoping for some reason he would have to stay, something that would earn him the excuse to have 'forgotten to call in to Cas' show'. He leaned in the doorway to take the weight off of his bad leg, but what he saw just made him feel worse. The almost unnoticeable curve of Anna's porcelain hand resting on Charlie's upper thigh.

Fuck, if that wasn't just the worst thing he could see right now. And it wasn't that he had flirted with the idea of being with either one of them when he was now obviously barking up the wrong tree, but it just reminded him of how far away the finish line was. How long would it be before he could have that casual affection with Cas so openly?

If ever.

Even if they managed to bring down Michael, even if he got over any personal homophobic problems he had, even if he found out that Cas had feelings for him too. How long would it be that he could just rest his hand on Cas' thigh without even thinking about it, and not worry about being judged, or the wrong person seeing it?

Charlie said something that made Anna laugh, and the two turned to face eachother just for a few moments, her hand rubbing reassuringly before becoming stationary again while Charlie turned back to her work, and competing with Ash.

Fuck.

Dean's tongue dragged across his lip in one depressed gesture, the empty look of a sad thought in his eyes as he finally turned to leave, to do one of the hardest things he'd had to do in a long time.


	29. A Tough Conversation

**Chapter 28**

Dean's hand quaked as he clutched his cellphone. He rolled his lips, chewing and licking them without even noticing, he just needed some distraction from what he was feeling. Real or fake, the conversation he was about to have would cause pain for both him and Cas. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, sprawled into a somewhat awkward position to make way for his afflictions. There was a faint mumble of conversation drifting under the door from the common room; and the only light was the dull orange glow of the old bulb suspended above, casting light without the protection of a shade but with no help from the inky sky outside.

"You alright?"

Dean jumped, he'd been sucked into his own little land of distraction, and completely forgotten that Chuck was even in the room. He paused a few beats until his heart stammered into a steady rhythm again after his fright and looked up at Chuck, "hey man, can you do me a favor?"

Chuck shrugged, probably just cautious about the fact that Dean had never really asked him for anything before. They sort of just had a comfortable mutual silence, with occasional small-talk. Not a huge amount of interaction with each other. Which was a huge upgrade from his previous roommate.

"Can you go for a walk or something, just for a bit. Go make a sandwich or do your laundry or something? I need to talk to someone, in private." He paused for a moment to test Chuck's reaction, before he added, "it's really important."

Chuck's eyelids slacked slightly, and the corners of his lips tugged down in a face so unimpressed it was borderline miserable. "Didn't your old flatmate make you do this all of the time?"

"Y-yeah," Dean replied uneasily, palm cupping the back of his own neck as his eyes flickered away uncomfortably.

"And didn't you tell me how much you hated that, and how it was a lot of the reason behind why you left?"

Dean swallowed hard and nodded again, looking back at his flatmate, "please."

The scruffy man took a deep breath and exhaled before he nodded reluctantly, "fine, fine. I'll get out of your hair for a bit."

"Thank-you."

"You owe me one."

"I do."

There was something about Chuck that he just trusted. Maybe it was the fact that he was such a dramatic change from what Michael had been to him, or maybe he saw him as salvation, a second chance. Of course now that he thought about it, it could well be those blue, blue eyes and that dark scruff of hair. He was a constant reminder of Cas.

He watched him go before he turned back to his phone, realising how reluctant he was for Chuck to leave now; he had been the last hurdle between distraction and this inevitable call he had to make. He inhaled shakily, feeling the nerves rising in him, the overwhelming feeling of anxiety almost making it hard to breath, filling him up inside and spreading through every part of him. His eyes slid closed as he prepared himself. Mind dripping over thoughts of what he would have to say, what he had to sound like, how he should act. All of the things he didn't want to ever have to say to Cas, all of the things he avoided doing because he knew how volatile he could be and how strongly he reacted to any aggression. But he had to get it over with. He knew that Cas was probably just as nervous – if not moreso, considering he had no knowledge of the rest of their fine plan.

His eyes opened, but not as fully as normal, they lingered with melancholy on the screen of his cell before he finally keyed in the numbers that he knew by heart now. How could he not? He'd memorized the number before he'd even met Cas, before he'd even called in. It was hope for him, always had been – even while he was still building up the courage to talk to Angel; even while he was still even entertaining the idea that he could call in some day and everything would change for the better. And now this was the end. No matter what way things went, he might not ever be able to call in again, and if the situation arrived in which he would be able to, it would be a _long _time from now.

What worse way to end an era?

"Hey there, Caller, you're live on the air."

He'd patched him right through, quick as that. He hadn't even been listening to the rest of the show, he didn't know what had been happening before this, whether it was a good night or not, but he'd patched him right through. "Angel," he said, with a tone of bitter greeting.

"Hey, look at that, it's my little Demon," Angel replied, cheer lacing his words. Ever a great actor, apparently. He was probably a good liar, and good at putting on a mask, and he was showing these skills in full flourish right then.

"At least one of us gets to be happy," bitterness, still.

"What do you mean?" Angel asked with obvious confusion and just a hint of worry.

"You honestly don't know?"

"Know what? What's wrong?"

"I just got out of the Hospital today, thanks to you."

"Thanks to me?"

"A friend of yours decided to send me a message, guess they don't think I'm good company for you. And I got jumped, and beaten within an inch of my life."

"Jesus Christ, Demon, are you okay?"

"The fuck do you think?" he snapped, his tone angry, and aggressive.

"You're blaming _me_ for this? I didn't know anything about it," he was protesting the blame, but his voice was getting quiet and weak, much more like Cas than Angel. It was strange to hear him like this on air, or on his cell, whatever. But it only made this that much more difficult.

"You could have at least given me a heads up, you obviously knew this guy would do something if he found out we were talking. But _no_, it's all about you. The Angel show. Fuck everyone else."

"That's not fair…"

"_That's _not fair? That's. Not. Fair? You know what isn't fair? Having a fractured skull from being smacked by a metal pole in the back of the head, or coughing up blood from being kicked and stomped on, maybe being hit so much that your whole face swells up and you can't even see the person who's doing it anymore. And then being alone in the cold and dark for hours until someone spots you. All because of you. All because I thought you were a friend. Because I talked to _you_."

"Demon, I-"

"No, fuck that. Who else can I blame but you? And even now you won't take responsibility. Because why should you? No one knows who you are, I'm the only one who came close. You'll just hide behind your big mic and your pseudonym and screw the rest." Some dry sob choked Dean, something he hadn't been expecting, he hadn't rehearsed. But every word he spoke was a nail in the coffin of this relationship, and it pierced his flesh just as sharply. "Don't ever try to contact me again. Don't call me, don't try to find me, don't even think my name. Not that you even really know it.

"How many months have I been spilling my guts to you and every other listener? You know _everything _about me, and I know nothing about you. The beating I took wasn't worth any secrets you have, it isn't worth your birthday, or your family history, your Major or your favourite film. You can take that with you to the grave; because you'll never trust anyone. You'll never let anyone know you and you'll die more alone than I ever felt before I met you.

"Fuck you, Angel. I hate you."

He heard a noise from Angel. A cry, like he'd been stabbed, cut so deeply and suddenly that he cried out. And he couldn't say anything else. He just hung up. He felt like the whole last rant in that conversation (not that he left much room for Cas to talk) had been an out-of-body experience. He heard the words, saw them come from his lips, but it didn't feel like he was the one saying them. Reality flashed before him as he realised it was over now, the radio, the calls, the best thing to happen during his lonely weeks since he'd came to KU. He reluctantly flicked on Angel's show, there was a silence. Just static. He knew that meant that Angel had been too upset by the call to continue the show, he'd signed off early.

The screen of his cell went dark and he caught his reflection. His face looked red and puffy, wet with tears that he didn't know he'd been crying. The argument was staged, but it felt so real, it felt so draining. Like when you've been marathoning a TV show and you feel such a connection to a character that you feel what they feel. Sam said it happened to him a lot with the books he read. When a character was in a bad place, he would find himself feeling down until he read on and they found consolation or redemption. He sat there for a couple of minutes, until the channel realised what had happened and started playing some generic song. Something Angel would never play. He switched it off and almost immediately there was a knock on the door and Jo pushed it open, "Dean, you have to come see this."

"What is it?"

"Charlie and Ash managed to get Michael's files, the bad stuff. You won't believe this." Dean blinked and quickly struggled to get up, letting the crutches support his weight while he got to his feet and Jo led him back to the others. She indicated he look at Ash's screen and he leaned over him to get a closer look at what appeared to be emails and scans of different documents, he shook his head after a few moments of trying to decipher the information, "what is this?"

"Dean," Jo said seriously and he looked up at her, not quite sure what they were trying to tell them, "he's got your roommate in his pocket, he's using Chuck."

"Dean, Chuck's been spying on you."

Dean's gaze shifted to Gabe as he spoke, trying to get him to understand. He stumbled back slightly until he found himself in a chair, and he knew that everyone was staring at him, waiting for a reaction, waiting for a plan or something that would make this better, but his mind was a blank. All this time, he thought he'd been safe. Any calls he made, any stuff he left out when he wasn't there, anything he said even in passing, anywhere he went… Chuck had been feeding it back to Michael. He could possibly know everything, because Dean couldn't even begin to work out what he might know. He could potentially know about these little meetings, he could have been eavesdropping this entire time, he could know everything.

Every interaction he'd had with Chuck started flashing before his eyes as he re-evaluated every last one of them, searching for some detail he may have let slip, something he said or did that would make things dangerous for Cas. Cas and his blue, blue eyes like Chucks. Chuck who he had thought he could trust. Now everything was spiralling down the plug-hole and he was at a loss. What if his stupidity was putting his friend in danger? Because he couldn't keep his trap shut, because all of the people in this room knew a secret that this boy had managed to keep to himself for God knows how long. He was here trampling over all of that and putting him at a real risk. No matter how much Cas avoiding Michael might put the plan in jeopardy, he wouldn't let him near that man. Not again. There was too much that could happen to him.

He looked up at everyone, eyes dragging from one person to the next, and he was at a loss for words, he didn't know what to do. He didn't know how to proceed. All he could think about was Cas and getting him out of danger. Michael used to kick him out after Angel's show, did that mean he would be summoning Cas soon? Would the blue-eyed boy go because Dean told him he should?

"Shit, I have to call Cas," Dean said finally, aloud. "I have to tell him everything." And then it sort of all fell into place, a plan of action. "You two, get all of the files you can, someone make a list of anyone Michael has power over, and what he has on them. No one talks to Chuck. We're going to use him, we'll feed him false information to cover our tracks and buy some more time." His gaze flicked between Sam, Jo, Ash and Charlie, "do you guys think you could all stay the weekend? We have a lot to do."


	30. Another Problem

**AN: Could you guys let me know if there are any mistakes in this? I wanted to post it before I toddled off to bed and I haven't had the chance to read it all back yet, only bits and pieces. You can accredit the writing of this chapter to Sigur Rós, whose new album came out today. They essentially have fuelled this entire fic and anything productive I've ever done ever.**

**Enjoy~!**

**Chapter Twenty-Nine**

When everyone agreed to the tasks Dean had set them, he turned away, pulling his phone out again to start calling Cas. He needed to warn him not to go to Michael tonight, no matter what. It wasn't safe, considering what he might know, it was even less safe than usual. Speed-dial.

_Brrn. Brrn._

_Brrn. Brrn._

_Brrn. Brrn._

'_You have reached the voicemail service of-' _

Dean hung up. He wasn't sure if Cas was ignoring his call or if he was too late. Suddenly it felt like something heavy was pushing down on his chest. Words he had spoken during their argument trickled back into his mind in a reluctant stream. He was starting to realise that what he had said was a little too real, a little too close to home. Most of it had been truth. That led him to wonder if maybe Cas' end of the conversation had been real too, maybe it was his genuine reaction to what Dean had said.

"Shit…" Dean mumbled as he dialled again. It went straight to voicemail that time. His phone was turned off. But he still couldn't be sure for what exact reason. His thumb and forefinger wrapped around his eyes like a visor, pressing into his temples at each side, and then slowly his hand dragged down his face.

"What's wrong?" Jo asked him from across the room, some of the others looked his way at that but then averted their gazes, except Gabe and Sam.

"He isn't answering his phone," Dean replied.

"Because of the argument?"

"Either that or he's already at Michael's." Dean cursed to himself again and looked away, trying to think of _something_.

"How will we know if he's at Michael's?" Sam asked softly.

"His car'll be parked outside, likely."

"One of us could go over, distract him," Gabe suggested. "You're hardly in a fit state to do it yourself."

"And something worse could happen if you turned up," Jo added.

"It would have to be someone Michael doesn't really know, or suspect of something," Sam said, though it was obvious he wasn't quite sure who Michael would or wouldn't know.

"If we have a mole, the only people Michael won't know are people that haven't been here before," Charlie said without looking up from her laptop, "and that leaves me and Ash. And since this is a one-man job anyway, it might as well be me. I don't look as suspicious, and he's probably less likely to attack a girl if anything goes wrong." She finally turned to face Dean when she finished speaking, and he stared back awestruck.

"You would do that?"

"There isn't really much of an alternative, is there?"

"This is pretty dangerous though, Charlie."

She nodded her head from side to side, looking up through her thick-rimmed glasses as if she was weighing up her odds, "yeah, essentially. But I can handle it." She smiled a little sweetly, and for a moment Dean forgot about the gravity of the situation and just found himself being thankful to have all of these people willing to risk so much for his cause. "If he's already there, I'll go up to Michael and think of a reason to get him to come out of the room, someone else is gonna need to get Cas out. Maybe get to the window? What floor is he on?"

"The first floor," Dean recalled. "My keycard still has access to the building, but I don't have key for the room."

"Of course," Charlie said raising an eyebrow, "one does not simply _walk _into Mordor."

Dean frowned deeply, "what?"

She shook her head, Sam was smiling, "Lord of the Rings reference," she said as if that cleared things up.

"You are… so strange."

She only looked angry for a flash of a second before she smiled again and said, "do you have any idea how fast life goes by? We don't have the time to sit around worrying about what other people think. We just have to be strange while we can."

Everyone was quiet for a moment apart from a myriad of clicks and a clashing of keys from Ash; that idea was a little too deep for many to comprehend at present so after a moment Dean nodded. "Alright then, Gabe – go with Charlie. Check out the car-park, he drives an old blue Cadillac, pretty beaten up. If it's outside my old building, his is the third window across on the first floor. You stay outside and let Charlie get him out of the room. Then get Cas' attention and try to sneak him out."

"I should go too," Sam said firmly. Dean's look of question probed him to elaborate, "I'm lighter than Gabe, if he gives me a boost I'll be able to climb to the window and get him out."

"I don't know, Sammy."

"Come on, let me do this."

Dean paused for a few moments before he nodded reluctantly, "fine."

There was a silence while everyone ran over the new plan in their heads. There were really too many plans for Dean to keep a track of at that point.

"We can't bring Cas back here if Chuck's back," Anna noted, the first thing she'd said in a while that wasn't directed at Jo or Charlie.

"Could you give me and him a ride back to his place?" Dean asked Jo. She nodded affirmatively in reply. "Alright, Gabe, send me a text if his car's there, if it is, me and Jo will go park outside the window. Get Cas out and into the car, then you three get back here. And let me know when you do."

"Why can't we just go in guns blazing? Michael'll know what happened once he sees that Cas is gone," Gabe said with some frustration.

"Who knows what that guy's capable of, if he gets his hands on one of you and knows what you're up to."

There was a solemn understanding that passed around them. Michael was being built up in their minds as a tyrant. The big boss as Charlie had put it. It wasn't much longer until everyone jumped into action. Gabe, Charlie and Sam left, taking Dean's keycard with them and only a few minutes later his phone buzzed confirming Cas' car was here. Jo had to help Dean get down the stairs and into her car – much longer than he'd hoped they would take considering the tight timeframe.

In the pitch blackness of the campus at night, he could just catch glimpses of shapes and forms moving when they managed to catch the silver glint of the moon. The only other light was provided through open windows and distant streetlights. Before he even realised they'd gotten Cas out, he saw Sam guiding him into the backseat of the car, next to Dean. The suddenness shocked him, but what shocked him more was when Cas' face was bathed in the carlight that flicked on with an open door. His eyes and cheeks were red from crying, and in the flash Dean had seen him it looked like his eye might be starting to bruise, but his lip was definitely busted. From what he had seen, Michael didn't usually aim for the face.

"Thank-you," he gasped, his voice less than a whisper but still cracked and more raspy than normal.

Dean nodded, he didn't need to ask, he knew it why he had said it. He had rescued him, gotten him out when things were getting _really _bad. He wasn't sure if Cas wanted to be touched immediately, but when Jo pulled away he found Cas nudging himself into Dean's chest; slouching over and pushing towards the warmth of his body like a small child would its' mother. And Dean found himself wrapping his arms around him protectively in the same way. The only thing he really said apart from hushing and murmuring words of encouragement were occasional directions for Jo to Cas' house, as she'd never been there before. Dean was surprised he even remembered, but then he thought maybe he had memorized them from the very first time Cas had brought him to his haven.

Jo helped them out of the car after she pulled into the drive. Thinking Dean would need the assistance more than anything, but he and Cas had turned into make-shift Siamese Twins in a co-dependent form that seemed to move towards the front door in a way that reminded Dean of when he was in elementary school and his science teacher made the class pretend to be the solar system and he had to spin whilst moving in a circle with another boy like the planets spinning and orbiting the sun. He'd been Pluto. And Pluto wasn't even a planet anymore. Poor Pluto. Now it was a dwarf something or other.

The house was dark apart from a light coming from what Dean thought was the sitting room, drifting into the hall via the gap beneath the door. The television buzzed vaguely, a cooking show. He could hear Jo reversing out of the drive, and he couldn't quite remember if he'd thanked her or not. He would do it later. She'd be here all weekend anyway. He had to clean up Cas for now, and he would have to tell him everything.

He let Cas drift on to his bedroom, after a reluctant hesitation in them breaking contact that left Dean with big, sad eyes floating in his mind. He parted to go to the bathroom to scavenge disinfectant gel and some damp tissues and plasters and anything he could find that he thought might be useful before he returned. Cas was on his bed, in an upright foetal position, his eyes looked glazed and distant, and they didn't move from staring at a spot on the floor even as Dean pulled a chair beside the bed with some difficulty, abandoning his crutches so he could concentrate on cleaning up his cut lip and the cracked flesh he'd discovered near the bruising eye. He barely realised that he was still whispering little words of reassurance while he did this, not until he was finished and he sat back, and Cas finally looked at him.

His own face was creased with worry, and he took this sudden movement in the other man to apologize, "I'm sorry, I should have never told you to go to him before, I was wrong. And what I said to you earlier, I just…" he trailed off; he couldn't even begin to apologize for that. He couldn't find the words to make up for the ones he had already spoken. He breathed, looking down at his hands, clutched and hanging between his legs which his elbows rested on. "Cas?" he asked as he eventually looked back up after too-long of a silence. The blue-eyed boy didn't say anything, "he went too far this time. I'm sorry it took us so long to get there. I should have-"

"He knows everything."

"I know."

"No Dean, he knows _everything_. The call didn't fool him. Which is ridiculous, because it even fooled me, but…" he laughed bitterly to himself before he stopped talking and looked away again. Dean felt horrible then, especially when he saw the tears lining his friend's eyes again.

"We're going to fix it, Cas." Dean said, his voice soothing. "We have a plan, it's already started. It's going to work."

"He's getting information from one of your friends."

"I know," Dean said again, "it's Chuck."

Cas tilted his head slightly, looking at Dean again, "my roommate," Dean clarified, as he hadn't spoken of him all that frequently. "But that's all part of what I have to tell you."

"Will you stay with me, tonight?"

Dean hesitated for only a moment before he nodded.

"Will you hold me?"

There was a jerk of something inside Dean, a tug in his chest before he nodded, more stiffly this time. It was a strange request for Cas, who usually wasn't a huge fan of any contact, and rarely showed much interest past friendship for Dean. He hadn't been expecting that at all; but he realised that maybe after the fact rejection from Demon earlier, added to whatever had happened with Michael and the idea that his world was crumbling around him – maybe some contact and reassurance was just what he needed to feel safe and secure. Dean moved with Cas, lying back on his bed and propping his bad leg on the edge of the chair he had pulled over while Cas proceeded to rest his head on Dean's chest and wrap a delicate arm around his waist. It wasn't a few seconds before Dean's hand was tousling Cas' thick mess of dark hair absently.

"Okay," Cas said quietly, "tell me."

And Dean did. He began speaking, telling Cas of the plan he and the others had hatched. Team Free Cas. Every little thing they had thought of, everything they had found out already, what they had done, what they had still to do, the part Cas would have to play… For the most part, Cas stayed silent, only the occasional '_mhmn_' or '_nnn_' let him know that he was still paying attention. He was silent still after he had finished. Dean didn't know when, but at some point they both fell limp, and drifted off to sleep.

He hadn't slept so peacefully in months.


	31. A Further Step

**((Sorry I've been gone so long :C ))**

**Chapter Thirty**

Morning light peered through the window and glanced across the bruised skin of the entangled boys. It continued to trickle across their forms as the sun rose higher and further into existence. The curtains had never been closed, but there had been nothing but darkness and moonlight surrounding them when they finally drifted away. Now birds chirped sweet melodies of nature to awaken the rest of the world, and let everyone know that morning had come; a new day, a fresh start.

As if their bodies were connected by some unspoken force, they awoke as one; stumbling back into existence like a young stag after its first winter. And as their eyes opened blearily, and they stirred, trying to piece together the events of the day before that had led to them being curled up so closely on Cas' bed… they saw eachother. And they smiled. Nothing had happened between them, nothing had needed to happen. For Cas, just falling asleep holding someone was a leap forward, to be able to trust him enough to welcome slumber while in a stranger's arms, it was something he didn't think he would be capable of for a long time; and for Dean… he didn't need anything else. After years of meaningless relationships, and emotionless fucks – this was what meant something to him. This was perfection and connection and a closeness he had never felt before.

Cas looked up at Dean, head nuzzled pleasantly into the other man's chest, but he looked up and his eyes were so clear and fresh and so filled with hope. It gave Dean chills to see him so happy. He found it hard to believe that this boy was the same who had flinched at his touch, who had stuttered and stammered and barely looked him in the eye. And though he knew this was personal progress for Cas, he couldn't help but take some inspiration for hope from that; just realising how far he had come made him comprehend how close they were to the finish line. All he wanted was for him to be safe. He knew now that love didn't matter, physical love was unnecessary, but just being near him and being able to do _something _was enough. He wanted to take Cas and give him the strength to have Angel's confidence. He wanted to take these two parts of Cas' personality and bring them to one, solid, perfect version who had overcome a struggle and had the power to laugh and smile and be happy because of it.

"Breakfast?" the boy said, his voice cut up from… well, Dean wanted to say just sleep, but he knew it was from crying too. Throat dry and scratchy from the tears he had spilled, all of the tears that had ran down his sweet porcelain cheeks, the rivers and oceans he had cried from the pain Michael had caused him.

He pushed the thought aside and smiled instead, "sounds good." Michael could take so much, but he wouldn't let him have this moment, this day. Because there was a peace in him with this new dawn that made him think of Sunday mornings and family and fresh apple pie, and just everything warm and good.

Cas rolled off of him, with some reluctance apparent in his expression and he stretched his arms up high with a huge yawn before he slumped back down, a satisfied look spread all over his face. Dean just chuckled, earning him a scowl as Cas pushed himself off the bed and looked at himself critically in the mirror, touching a bruised eye with tender prods of his slender fingers. He made a face at himself before he turned to Dean, "come downstairs when you're ready, I'll get started."

"No breakfast in bed?"

"This isn't a hotel," he retorted, raising an eyebrow.

"But I'm injured," Dean tried, with a pout.

"If you're hungry, you'll manage," Cas said with a playful smile, he really wasn't having any of Dean's games. He disappeared out of the door leaving Dean alone. He lay there for a minute before he managed to pull himself out of bed, stretching too, just not with the same dramatics as Cas.

Cas was fiddling with a frying-pan on the stove when Dean finally emerged, "do you even know what you're doing?" he asked, making Cas jump. The boy turned with a smile before he replied, "I don't have to, I just have to make some noise."

Dean frowned. Yeah, he _really _didn't get that. And Cas knew he didn't because the smile remained as he turned back to the stove, making noise around it, clattering whisks and pans and plates. It all suddenly became very clear as there was a call from behind Dean, who had since perched himself on a stool by the little island in their kitchen. He looked behind him to see Balthy appear, looking miraculously ill-tempered (more-so than usual). He was in a dressing gown and pyjama bottoms and his hair seemed to be pulled back with one of those eye-mask things; Dean's frown deepened as he tried to remember the proper name but he was distracted from his thought as he watched Balthy's reaction to Cas trying to cook unfold before him.

He pushed Cas out of the way with a gentle knock of his hip and just immediately took over, spiels of dramatic frustrations spewing from his lips and suddenly he was Gordon Brown… (no, that's wrong. Gordon Ramsey. Yeah, that was it.) All whisks and spatulas and spices flying everywhere. Dean caught a smirk from Cas as he pretended to nod along with whatever Balthy was saying, and eventually managed to slip into the seat next to Dean.

He had to hand it to him, he knew Cas could be crafty, but seeing it in action actually made him a little proud. There was a harsh sigh and two plates of fucking-fancy-looking eggs and toast were dropped in front of them, Dean smiled up at the man, not sure if verbalizing his gratitude was at all a good idea when he was so volatile.

There was a clatter of plates in the sink and Balthy sat opposite them, with his own plate, but he was more focused on the tea he had made himself. When he finally broke concentration from it he looked at Dean and Cas, actually _looked _at them and he frowned, "did you two boys get into a fight, or something?"

And yeah. It finally occurred to them that Cas had a bruised up face and Dean was all casts and stitches. They shared a look as they came to the realisation that walking around like they were might give a strange impression.

"You should see the other guys?" Dean tried, raising an eyebrow as he looked back at Balthy. Balthy whom he still kind of hated, despite breakfast.

"If you're not going to tell me what happened I'm just going to assume you both like it rough," he replied, but with such nonchalance he may as well have just told them they were expecting rain today.

Dean blinked, but Cas didn't exactly jump to correct him. And what could they say? Dean didn't exactly fancy getting into the story behind his cuts and bruises and Cas was much the same, so apparently they were sticking with Balthy's chosen cover story.

"I heard you come in last night," Balthy said, apparently changing tact. "I didn't realise you'd brought a friend home, for liking it rough, you really manage to keep quiet." Apparently not.

Dean shot him a glare over his eggs and Balthy pursed his lips, a feigned expression of innocence passing over his features. Giving him a look that said, 'now now, play nice, Tiger'; and didn't Dean just hate that look? "Where's your car?" Balthy said, suddenly turning his attention back to Cas. There was something about Balthy that reminded Dean of a play he'd been to see in middle-school, one of the character's in it – Puck. He couldn't for the life of him remember the name of it.

Jeez, what was wrong with him this morning, he was even more slow than usual.

"It's back at my place," Dean answered for him, "there's a problem with the ignition, my friend gave us a ride back, and it was so late that Cas said I could say. I'm going to take a look at the car today when I go back."

"And when are you going back?"

"Bal," Cas warned him, obviously picking up on the hinting in the blonde's tone.

Balthy left them with the clean-up not much later. Later than Dean hoped he would become scarce. He knew the guy was just teasing him, and he was sure that Cas and Balthy were probably close when he wasn't around. But he couldn't ignore how much the guy irritated him.

"Look Dean, about the whole 'save Cas' thing, the plan you and your friends have," Cas was saying as he put away the dishes Dean was washing. He wasn't quite looking at Dean, even as he tried to hand Cas a plate and catch his eye. "It's really thoughtful, and I appreciate the effort, but I don't think you should go any further with it."

"What?" Dean said with incredulity. "Why?"

And he really couldn't believe what he was hearing. Just when they were coming so close, when there was actual real progress, Cas wanted to shut it all down. He set down the pan he was cleaning to turn and look at Cas full on, trying to get some read on him, even as his arms hung heavy and dripping by his sides, leaving puddles on the floor.

"Just don't. I shouldn't have let you guys go this far, if I'd known, I would have told you sooner, I just…" he trailed off, and he still wouldn't look at Dean. But there was a glimmer that he caught in the boy's eye, and it compelled him to take a step towards him, closing the gap ever so slightly.

"You don't think you deserve to be saved," he stated, his voice was soft but lined with some accusation. It wasn't a question, because he could see it so clearly all over his face, but he just didn't want to believe it. "Cas…"

His eyes snapped up, suddenly hitting him with all of their intensity and a vast pool of emotion that Dean wasn't ready for, his breath caught in his throat for a moment as Cas started to talk, his words a little sharp, but the sadness in him was overwhelming. "I did bad things, okay? Bad things happen to bad people, this is what I deserve."

Dean's face twisted up and he shook it side to side, "no, Cas, what the hell are you talking about?" He couldn't even find the right words then, it took him a few stuttered attempts before he finally managed to say, "bad things happen to good people too. And yeah, sometimes good people do bad things. But this is more than karma – this is a badly dealt hand. This isn't punishment, Cas, you don't take this shit lying down. You fight for your freedom. And that's why I'm here, and that's why everyone else is here to help you – we all want you to have happiness.

"Because you deserve it. And even if you can't see that, we can. And one day you'll understand that."

He shook his head, but Dean wasn't finished, "I'm not calling this off. We're doing this for you. I'm sorry you got hurt because of it, but I'll keep you safe, okay? We have to see this through. I mean, even if we wanted to call it off, it's gone too far now. This is the final stretch."

"Dean…" and his words failed him. And it was heart-breaking. The look in his eyes as his whole face softened. His eyes looked a little glassy, his cheeks slightly pink, and he threw his drying cloth at Dean, he struggled to catch it while still leaning on one of his crutches. He took the hint, drying his hands and before he had even finished Cas took one of them in his own and without a word led the hobbling Dean back to his room.

The door shut behind them with a slam and Cas pushed Dean gently towards the bed. Dean sat utterly bewildered, but there was still a teary look in Cas' eye. Which really only added to the confusion of the situation. Cas was turned away, facing the opposite wall as he pulled off his t-shirt. Long-sleeved, always long-sleeved. And Dean could guess why, but he had never let himself think about it too much, he had never _seen_.

The shirt folded into the ground in a dark little pile at Cas' feet. Dean only heard it, didn't see. He was too busy looking at the dark bruises that littered Cas' body. A body that looked much more frail than he had thought it was before. And as he turned, one arm crossed over his stomach in a defensive position, the leopard-like spotting of bruises only continued. Some angry, swollen and purple, others paler, more red or pink and faded. His eyes trailed up the slender frame to meet Cas' eyes again and he pleaded with him to speak.

"I know you want to save me. I know you think you have to. You think you feel an obligation to me; but you don't, Dean. You think I'm weak and that I need protection, and that I'm broken and you need to fix me. No matter how true it is… you don't. This is _me. _This is what you take home. You can't love me, Dean." And he said love. And Dean wondered if he had been so transparent all this time. Had Cas known his feelings before even he did. "Michael made sure I was his, and that I'm unlovable and ugly. Nothing can hide that."

Dean was struck silent for longer than he cared to admit. But when he finally moved, gracelessly and with all of the awkwardness his casts would allow him, he came to Cas. And he said six little words that he hoped would fix everything: "I don't want you to hide." And he brought a tender kiss to a bruise on his chest. There was nothing sexual about it; what it really was, was acceptance. This was the Cas he knew, he knew no other version and he didn't need anything else. He could love him only if he accepted every part of him, and he had long understood that this was a part of him. And he would take that too, and anything else that he was burdened with. He would happily take that weight, and if he couldn't carry it, he would at the very least help Cas to.

A soft finger touched his chin, bringing his head level with the boy-eyed boy's. Cas's eyes closed, and a tear dripped down his cheek. Dean just stared, only a breath away, so close that he could feel the slight quiver in Cas' form, and the catch in his breath. And their heads leaned together, noses touching, just to feel the closeness. Just to feel the connection. Just so Cas could show Dean that he understood and there was nothing in this world that meant more to him. And Cas swallowed and fell into a hug that Dean was more than happy to reciprocate, closing an arm around the boy who buried himself into Dean. He held him tight and close, and let his head tip into the crook of Cas' neck. Feeling the warmth of his breath against his chest and just wishing it would never end.


	32. A Proposition

**((Minor minor update, sorry it's so short, but it's the final stretch now!))**

**Chapter Thirty-One**

The floor had turned into a makeshift basecamp for that weekend; Sam was bunking with Dean; Anna, Jo and Charlie had convinced Gabriel and his roommate to let them take over their beds and forced them to sleep in the common room with Ash. During the day there was all of the hustle and bustle of a campaign office with Dean actually managing to take a step back; once he had provided them with a plan, things had taken off from there. They all functioned like a well-oiled machine, everyone knew their part and they played it well.

As much as everyone was happy to compile lists and craft strategies, the question on everyone's lips was 'how do we deal with Chuck'. And rightly so. Their only real two options were to confront him and hope he would make the right decision on whose side to take, or to feed him lies and continue to keep these secrets around him. The problem with the latter option was that everything was happening right on Shurley's doorstep, and if he so chose to poke his head out from under the covers and take notice of what was going on around him, he might well get suspicious. They couldn't have that.

But with telling him that they knew what he was doing for Michael, they could risk blowing everything up, destroying whatever they had left, if Chuck chose not to switch sides or even played a double agent… triple agent? Well, it wasn't worth the risk.

Frankly the whole situation made Dean's head hurt, so he decided that lying to him was best until Chuck got suspicious, and then they would all decide what to do with him really. But he was a speck now. The plan would have to be put into action sooner than anyone would have hoped with Chuck's snitching to Michael having come to light, but everything would work out. Dean had faith. And there was a silent understanding that passed between them all; everyone knew that they could change things with what they were doing now, even if it was just one person, or everyone who had been affected by Michael; and that kept things focused on the floor.

The machine was so well-oiled that with barely any assistance from Dean, everything would strike into motion come Monday morning, by Wednesday afternoon, it would all be over. Dean had decided to make the most of this (and especially thanks those who had insisted he get some rest) and spend a little extra time with Cas. He would be getting his cast taken off soon, thankfully, and downgraded to a bandage. Things were getting back to normal, his bruises mostly starting to fade, the cuts healing (which he was looking forward to, because he had given up on shaving around them recently and his face constantly seemed to itch because of it).

It had been decided that Dean shouldn't make any visits, nor should Cas. They were poster-boys for what Michael's wrath could entail, and so were better off out of the picture for now; partially for the shock factor when they did step forward, and partially to not scare anyone they approached off. So in groups and pairs, the merry bands of Cas' followers went off, with lists in hand, making house-calls and visiting offices and anywhere they might find the people on Michael's lists. Only a few, only the ones they could as far as sorting through the information went. It would really start on Monday, everyone would flood out and talk to anyone Michael had under his thumb.

While that was happening, something entirely different would start to spread. Like a virus, infecting the minds of every person in the student body. Posters, fliers, emails, texts, Facebook invites; word would spread faster than a plague, and the mystery surrounding it would bring everyone in. The curiosity and the questions and like any good virus, it would be irresistible. The people involved, were blessed with two computer-savvy friends and the world of technology at their fingertips, along with Cas himself, so what better tool at their disposal than this?

"You should come home with me."

"What?"

"Over Christmas, you should come home with me."

"But… your parents, wouldn't they—"

"They'll be glad for me to bring a friend back, though dad might try to put you to work in the Garage."

"I doubt I'd be much use… but I'd love to."

According to Jo, Gabe was quite the salesman. Apparently he could paint a pretty vivid picture of what life would be like if they didn't play along to the great Save-Cas scheme; and how it would be infinitely better on the other side of the chessboard. That was how every person they had visited come Monday afternoon had whole-heartedly agreed to shift sides. And while some talked to the people involved, others were busy spamming university-emails accounts with ambiguous messages telling people where to be, where to tune in; the internet exploded with Facebook groups and events, Tweets and Emails and Messages and every social networking device at their disposal – while in the real world, posters were stuck up, fliers spread across campus, texts were sent using numbers given in student's private details. Not one person in the University had managed to overlook the fact that something was brewing. Something big.

Everyone was prepared, Gabe, Sam, Cas, Jo, Charlie, Ash, Anna; they were all in the know. Everyone knew the part that they had to play, some more significant, others more dangerous. But they were so close they could taste it, so well-rehearsed, so confident that they could actually pull it off, that no one would back out any time soon.

"I'm scared."

"I know."

"What if this doesn't work? What if he finds me, or you, or anyone? What if they kick me out?"

"It'll be okay."

"What if—"

"It'll be _okay_."

"Okay."

"I promise."

"Okay."


	33. A Fix

**Chapter Thirty-two**

It was ready. Everything was in place. People had gathered in considerable crowds right where they were supposed to. Monitors and the university sound-system hacked; radios and cell-phones tuned into the live feed, all in time to witness _la grande révélation. _The crowds were buzzing with anticipation of what this great, fantastic, mysterious thing they were all invited to was; Dean and the others were humming with a nervous excitement. Even if Michael had some idea of what was going on, and they suspected that he did, it was really too late for him to throw any significant kind of spanner in the works. It was all ready. They were all waiting. Just waiting for the clock to strike and the transmission would begin.

And for a moment, it seemed the entire campus was struck silent when the stream went live. Lecturers, Tutors, Students: every person in KU was somehow a part of this, somehow clued in, all waiting for questions to be answered. There were quite a few suggestions as to what it could all be – for those who had gotten texts and emails and invites and not much else information, and as rumours spread through the week, the ideas for what it could be became quite creative. Dean had heard most of the usual stuff – some viral way of promoting a new bar or club or some event; an elaborate way of organising some hippie protest – Anna told him someone had mentioned that it was obviously a way of organising everyone into the same place for some kind of attack that would 'move the nations' into thinking that they should submit to the government in every way and allow them complete control over mass security. That was one of the more…_ alarming _theories.

It didn't matter, they would all know soon enough.

In three

In two

In one…

And that voice that beautiful voice. Once again, it captivated the masses. Most knew it already, many tuned in for that once-pirate radio show. So many knew Angel, knew him only as Angel. But it was all on him for now. So many gathered in one of the larger auditoriums; people cramped together, all trying to get a look at… nothing. Cameras pointed, cell phones recording… nothing. No one was there, the curtains were drawn, but still, the voice poured into the room to hundreds of willing ears, and too, all across campus, straight into phones and radios and computers and every resource they had at their disposal.

Dean was at the other side of the curtain, hidden from view, watching Cas at work, at home behind his equipment. He could see how nervous he was, but it didn't show through that harshly carved voice, all chipped and roaring, how you'd expect a lion to speak. _Brave as one, too _Dean was thinking as he watched him. Ready to reveal himself, ready to spill his dark secret to all of those zealous eyes. Ready to give it all up, because he refused to give in. And there was definitely a streak of pride in Dean as he watched on, and a curl of something in the pit of his stomach as Cas looked up long enough to meet his eyes, and smile.

He could barely focus on the words coming from Cas' mouth, but he knew the speech practically by heart – well, the bare bones anyway; he could hardly make Cas rehearse something Dean had written when he was such a perfect little wordsmith.

Everyone else was stationed, some keeping watch of Michael, some keeping watch at the other gathering points on Campus' elsewhere, the two glamorous computer nerds were managing the technology side remotely.

For a second, the crackle of Cas' voice prompted Dean to imagine billows of smoke pouring from his mouth as he spoke on; telling them all, telling them why they were gathered. Seemingly innocuous. For the moment, everyone was excited to think that Angel from Angel's Demons was going to show them his face; and how surprised they would be when so much more was on display. All of him. Every inch of him, pouring his insides out; risking himself to save himself, and everyone else.

"I'm not doing this for me," he had told Dean while they were setting up, "I'm doing it for you."

And Dean hadn't responded, just smiled vaguely and continued to help him set up the broadcasting gear. He didn't like to linger on the thought that he had forced Cas into this situation, just kept thinking that no matter what the reason, it was going to benefit Cas, and him, and everyone – except for Michael.

He was standing now, Cas, had taken a break in that speech of his to step towards the curtain and nod over at Dean as a signal for him to part them. And those cameras suddenly weren't so pointless, they were pointed at him now. At the boy finally revealing his face to adoring fans and fellow students, no longer a ghost in the corridors. Cas Novak had a face and a name now, and every screen tuned in and every eye in the room could now see him.

That's what he was telling them now, his name, his status in the University… that this wasn't his true confession. This was it. This was the turning point in so many lives. Such a small revolution in the greater scheme of things, but so vastly important to us now. This was a moment that would change things more dramatically than we even realised right then. If we'd known what would happen as a result, maybe we would have gone about it differently.

Too bad Psychics aren't real.

Dean could only watched on as Cas continued to talk, every eye on him, and yet he was more confident now than Dean had ever seen him. It was captivating. How could it not be? Apart from his voice and the occasional shuffle or click of a cell phone's camera snapping a shot of that beautiful porcelain boy, there wasn't a noise.

"The real reason I'm here is I have a confession to make.

"I'm a victim, of physical and mental abuse, and of rape. I was blackmailed and forced to do things I don't even want to think about, by someone I think we all know."

And what a perfect wave of shock and intense need for Cas to continue talking.

"That man's name is Michael Milton."

Dean's mind struggled for a word to sum up the reaction in the people crushed into the room, but there wasn't one. It was such a fantastic mix of reactions, and such a vast spectrum that he thought almost every one had been captured somewhere in the auditorium.

"He's responsible for so much pain in this community," he continued when he thought people had settled enough for his voice to carry well enough again. "But not anymore. Today it stops, I'm lucky enough to have people in my life with the ability to change things for the better. And they've stripped away his power, his leverage over every one. He's been exposed as a rapist and a thug, and if we stand together, he can't have authority over anyone, anymore."

Silence fell again. Over everyone. Even Cas as he waited for just… something. And there was quiet calculation in the room as that started to seep in.

And then, something amazing happened.

One by one, people began to stand, a few shouting out admissions of Michael's trespasses against them, others shouting abuse about him, and eventually the room erupted with shouting and clapping and cheering and essentially: joined determination for change. This was the great revolution. This was the war we had been waiting all of our lives to fight, and all it took was a boy with a problem, and a friend with an idea; and it grew and grew and grew, to this. To this screaming imperfect perfection.

And just like that, Michael was nothing.

Files wiped beyond repair, people dropping fear in favour of freedom, the world saving itself. Well, maybe it wasn't that grand a scale, but that's what it felt like. And who would believe the claims of such a filthy excuse for a human anyway? He was nothing, he had no one.

And that was still more than he deserved.

Baby blues caught Dean's eyes, and they shared a smile, toothy and lopsided and fantastic.


	34. A Break

**Chapter Thirty-Three**

And so peace fell over all of Kansas with the reign of Michael the Unfair ended, and Cas and his followers lived happily ever after.

Jesus, no. Of course they fucking didn't. They're only Human, bad things happen all the time and _of course _this story is no exception. And it most certainly didn't end there. Because naturally, one more lovely promise had to be lived up to – that is to say, Cas' Winchester Christmas.

Christmas in the Winchester household was always a big deal (Mary made sure of that, and even John could be nudged into the spirit of things without too much effort). The whole house seemed lit up with cheer and a certain warmth that only manifested at this time of year. John of course, at his Wife's gentle prompts, was on duty decking the house with boughs of holly, or however the saying goes. Have you ever seen National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation? Yeah, decorating the outside of the house wasn't far off of that. It was a great game every year for the boys to find some reason to _not _help with that particular tradition. This year Dean's guest made him exempt and Sam had swung kitchen duties and basically tailing Mary to help her ready the place.

By the time they made their way back home, Dean's wounds had been downgraded as a passable 'just had a bit of a fight', maybe even 'oh I had a bad fall'; and the house was almost in full cheer. His mother was particularly excited by the fact that they were expecting snow soon (though it usually was pretty light and melted completely after a day).

Dean had been right in thinking that Mary and John would be pleased that he had brought a friend home, considering the state he'd been in the last time he'd came back, and just how generally lonely he'd obviously been. And Cas was such an alarming gentleman that he managed to swoon Mary and impress John enough (after expertly manoeuvring through quite a few tricky questions) to have him be struck silently approving. As a friend. As Dean's guy friend. Who he had invited back for Christmas break with his family. As a friend. Which is completely normal and happens all of the time.

Anyway…

Cas was utterly privileged to take part in the good old torture of finding the tree. Only a torture because of how completely distinct each of their own opinions of 'what a tree should be', were. Though the strange thing, through Dean's eyes, was how much Cas seemed to enjoy it. Maybe it was the years of traditions wearing on him, but seeing the Holiday through Cas' eyes made everything feel fresh and pretty damn good. Cas and Sam got on pretty well without the hustle of all the others around like it had been the past few weeks. Which he was glad for, because a part of him had felt bad for bringing Cas back when vacations were now the few times he could really spend time with his brother properly. But Cas had a way about him… I don't know, like he just slotted into the family so easily that Dean didn't feel the need to be constantly making sure he was entertained. He just worked well in the house, like he had lived with them all his life, like another brother.

"I love this," Cas said with a blissful smile that Dean wasn't used to seeing.

"What?"

"Christmas, your home, your family, the traditions, all of it."

Dean cocked his head slightly with the beginnings of a frown creasing his brow, "you don't normally do this?"

Cas chuckled slightly, "of course not," and Dean's face became even more deeply confused, so he elaborated; "my family is hugely religious, so much so that they don't buy into the more commercial side of Christmas. It's just another day for laborious praying, not old men in red and presents and trees."

"Seriously?"

He nodded with a bemused smile, "they acknowledge it I suppose, but the Christmas tree is a Pagan thing to them, and yeah, okay, Santa Claus is a saint and all, but they don't agree with how he's been commercialised. He was originally Saint Nicholaus, who is the patron saint of gift-giving – among other things – and got himself a reputation for secret present-giving by putting coins in the shoes of children who left them out, something along those lines."

"Oh…"

Cas chuckled again, "but it's nicer like this."

"I guess so." Dean replied thoughtfully, but he let a smile crease his lips, "I like it better with you here."

Ah the presents… well, Dean had never been good at gift-giving. He found the whole experience a little overwhelming, first of all knowing how much to spend on someone without knowing what they would spend on you, and then figuring out what they would want. He didn't work well at this part of gift-oriented holidays unless pretty strong hints were dropped. Unfortunately, Cas hadn't yet learned that about him. He was a good sport though, when he opened the few presents Dean had badly wrapped for him and found silly things like CDs and random little trinkets you would expect to find in some ever-nostalgic nineties-kid's room. Ever impressed by Cas' acting skills, Dean was surprised to see how happy he seemed to be with those, cross-legged on the floor near the tree, Dean sitting opposite him and Sam crawling under it to drag presents out.

"Here," Cas said with a smile, sliding his gift to Dean over, "open it."

And Dean was mesmerised with that smile for a moment, trying to figure it out layer by layer before he looked down to the carefully wrapped box. Another awkward tradition: opening a present in front of the friend who gave it to you, not sure if he could display just the right amount of surprise and appreciation to let them know he appreciated it. He over-compensated for this by ripping back the paper with a little more vigour than was probably necessary. And then he just stared.

And stared.

And stared.

"Cas…"

His eyes drifted up to meet that gentle blue gaze, and back down to the nest of wrapping paper before him with a radio cradled in the centre. "This is one of yours, isn't it?" he asked, letting his eyes float up again to connect with Cas'. And the other boy nodded, "my favourite, one of the first I ever got; it's yours now."

"I… I can't."

"I want you to have it."

Dean couldn't help but just stare. Oblivious to everyone else in the room, who were thankfully oblivious to them; Sam shaking a box trying to figure out what was inside before he started tearing it open; Mary and John sat on the couch talking and laughing, Christmas-jumpers intact but the few gifts they'd received not so much.

"Thank-you." Dean said eventually with a truly sincere nod because he wasn't quite sure what else to say. Maybe it didn't seem like much on the outside, but it didn't take much thought to understand how much this meant. How much that little collection of Cas' meant to him, how much this one in particular did, where Cas felt safe – as Angel -, where they first connected… it was perfect. And it instantly shook the sleep from the eyes of eveyr feeling Dean had been trying to repress to keep himself focused on the mission, on all of this. It was very much awake now, the idea that he could love – did love – Cas Novak.

Those long meaningful, meaningless stares continued through most of the day and night, through Christmas dinner and bad films and though there seemed to be an understanding between them in that shared stare, not a word was really spoken on the subject. But for Dean, there was no point in denying it anymore. Jo had been right all of those weeks and months ago, and now he didn't care about any repercussions these thoughts and ideas might have, or what impact acting on them might have on his life. He didn't care about any of that, about sexuality crisis, or ridiculous social conventions – none of it mattered, and coming through the other end alive after the Michael fiasco made him realise what he wanted and needed. And that was Cas. And he understood so clearly now that nothing else mattered.

All this time he thought he was repaying a favour, Angel had brought him through some of his darkest times, and he wanted to raise Cas from perdition in that same way. But now he was aware of some other motivation much more pressing than anything else that had been flowing through his reasoning all this time, another connection, another purpose. And now they were free to dive into that, and however long it would take to ease Cas into trusting someone so completely again would be worth it.

Dean had been right in thinking that John would talk Cas into working at the Garage. Well, that is to say he 'expected' Dean to work once Christmas was over with and Cas being his guest should 'tag along' and 'see the trade'. What that meant was Cas shadowing Dean while he worked on the cars, which should have been boring for him, but he seemed strangely fascinated by it all. He supposed it was something similar to how he felt when he watched Cas work.

Cas was a smart guy, after the first few days he had worked out ways he could help Dean along with whatever jobs he was on rather than just watching him, and however small, Dean appreciated the help. He was always hesitant with sharing this hobby of his with others, this job, because it was something he could fall into alone and find peace in because of that. If he shared it with someone, and something happened between them, he was worried it might taint that calming effect it had. But he didn't have that worry with Sam, or John, and now, he didn't have that worry with Cas. He couldn't quite put his finger on the reason, but for now, he couldn't help but feel confident that they were in the clear as far as problems went, _for now_.

He felt a squeeze on his leg, and knew it was Cas, but he could feel the urgency in it and he slid from under the car he was working on and looked up at Cas, sat on the floor next to him, but he was staring out towards the front, eyes squinted ever so slightly against the glare of the sun. Dean followed his gaze to a man walking towards him, and his stomach leapt when he recognised the face. He was on his feet faster than he could think what he was doing, taking purposeful steps towards him to cut him off before he even made it to the entrance of the Garage.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice rough and hard, only inches away from the man, eyes vicious.

"Dean, I didn't know you worked here," he smiled back, eyes shifting ever so slightly away, not even confident in his own lie, "my car broke down a few miles back, I was hoping someone could help me out."

"Get out, Chuck, now."

"What?"

"You think I'm an idiot? I know you were working for Michael, _and now you still are_? What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Dean, I don't know what you-… My car, it's just a bit back… Can you—"

"No, Shurley, just turn around, walk away and don't look back. Michael can't do anything to you, and if you stay out of this, I won't do anything to you either." He stressed every word, completely serious about what he was telling his old roommate. He didn't want to start a fight right here, but he would if he had to, if he had to protect Cas.

As soon as Chuck turned to walk away, Dean knew this was just the start. For whatever reason, Chuck had stuck by Michael, so God only knew who else had – on top of that, Michael clearly knew where he lived and worked and that Cas must have been here with him (or if Chuck went back, he definitely would now). And suddenly they weren't so safe anymore.

"What was that about?" Dean heard John shout from across the yard. He watched Chuck walk away before he turned to call back, "just some guy looking for directions."

His mind was already racing as he walked back to Cas, but he didn't say anything, just slid back under the car and let himself think. What were the chances that Chuck would just drop off the map and Michael wouldn't be here any time soon? Michael had to be bitter, even want some sort of vengeance – that was just the kind of person that he was. It had to be expected, Dean supposed the idea had been niggling at the back of his mind since they had exposed him; he had just hoped everything would be fine. Maybe that was the whole reason why he had asked Cas to come back with him for Christmas. He would have liked to think it was something else, but maybe he just wasn't done protecting him.

And another idea was born, just like that.

Just like that.

"You boys okay to close up?" Dean looked across, struck from his daze – hours had passed since Chuck had made his unexpected appearance, but time had just seemed to collapse in on itself, and he still hadn't spoken to Cas – he had just been trapped in his own mind.

"Yeah sure," he replied with an affirmative nod, dusting his hands together as he looked to Cas.

John left soon after, Cas had driven them here in his own car so he could follow John home once they had closed up the Garage. Once they were the only ones left in the place and night started to draw in Cas finally asked what had happened and Dean just looked at him for a moment, still not bought into his own idea never mind explaining it to him.

"He said his car broke down a few miles back, and he was looking for someone to come out and fix it."

"You think he's still in Michael's pocket?"

"Yeah, I assume so – probably some ambush knowing Michael's tactics."

"Will they come back."

"I hope not."

"You think they will though."

"Probably, yeah."

"So what do we do?"

"We close up, like dad asked."

Cas hesitated like he was going to say something else, but then he gave up and just nodded.

Getting the place sorted out for tomorrow was something Cas was confident enough in now, once he'd been shown the ropes, Dean reckoned he preferred it to dealing with customers, it was just a series of tasks rather that didn't take much thought – least that was what Dean liked about it anyway.

He was cleaning up an oil puddle near the back of the shop when he heard a rattle and he instantly turned, expecting to see Cas. Oh but he wasn't quite as lucky as that, was he? A figure came in from the shadows behind him, taller, and with a tranquil grace in his presence that he just didn't seem to be able to put his finger on. He froze, like a deer in the headlights, shock rolling over and over inside of him, just waiting for the other man to make some move.

"Hello, Dean."

Dean slowly raised himself to his full height, turning to face Michael, doing his best to keep every muscle in his body still and firm; but he could feel old wounds itching as a reminder of what happened when he faced this particular foe. Still, his eyes kept unmoving, staring defiantly into Michael's, not saying a word.

"You'd have to be an idiot to think I wouldn't find you."

"I didn't doubt it for a second."

"So you understand why I'm here then?"

"Revenge, I guess?"

"It could have worked out fine, you know, if you had just been a nice little doormat and just turned a blind eye to him like everyone else."

"Sorry, I just can't do that."

"It's a shame really," Michael said, spreading his hands as he started to pace, with a look of such nonchalance about him, like he didn't have a worry about Dean, or barely even realised the situation unfolding around them. Dean just watched him move with caution, trying not to compare him to every Bond villain. "Things were going so well, until you turned up and decided to play hero," he was shot a fearsome look from Michael, and it was hard not to feel intimated, there was a power in him that was hard to deny. "But I suppose nothing lasts forever – except, that's how the world works, Dean. You can't change it, you're just one little boy, there will always be a bully, anywhere you go – and you just can't stop it. How long do you think this 'peace' will last?"

"I'll always fight."

Michael stared at him as if he'd just said something utterly dull, "of course you will.

"And that's why you need to be taught your lesson."

"And I suppose you're teacher?"

"We could have gone so well together, Dean, you could have been one of my little followers, and things would have worked beautifully."

Dean snorted, "as if, I'd ever take your side you junkless piece of shit."

"No, no, of course you wouldn't..."

Dean stared at him indignantly, until Michael continued, "people see you as some sort of savoir, as hope that they can stand up to anyone, and to show them that they're wrong, I need you out of the way. And I _will_ be victorious."

"You're insane."

Michael looked as if he was going to retort but instead that sickening pleasant smile spread across his face and he took a step closer, "are you going to get out of the picture or are we going to have to do this the hard way?"

"What do you think?"

"Very well."

In what felt like a manner of seconds, Michael had closed the gap and Dean's face stung, instantly swollen. He lashed out, getting a few good shots in, but Michael was in significantly better shape and surprisingly strong. If his mind wasn't so trained on trying to take Michael down, he would be able to connect the dots between Michael's authority and his fighting skills. Dean had underestimated him, and that idea was in the forefront of his mind as Michael pinned him to the floor and his had searched the ground for something deadly enough to send Dean to his maker. And he knew that because he could see the delusion, the unadulterated madness taking over Michael's eyes.

And no matter how much he struggled, the bigger man wasn't shifting off of him.


	35. An Admission

"Hey! Assbutt!"

The voice cracked like thunder around Dean as he strained to defend himself against Michael, pressure so high his ears were pounding, but before he could even realise what was happening, the body above him slumped and lay heavy across him. His struggles finally no longer in vain, he was able to scramble away, pushing Michael off and putting some distance between them by sliding back across the ground. Still, it took him some time to understand what had happened, once he had all of the pieces: Michael, unconscious; Cas standing just behind him, pale as a ghost, the wrench clattering on the ground…

His eyes flitted between Cas and Michael a few times before it really sank in, and then he was instantly snapped back to the unconscious body, checking for a pulse, the slight moving of his chest, anything at all. Wrecking his mind for any useable first aid knowledge, hands searching for a sign of life… but there was nothing. Nothing but a sticky patch of red on the back of his head that matched one of his dad's tools. Concave. Cracked. Broken. D-…

How many times had he wished Michael would just disappear? Just fade away, never come back. How many times had he wished him dead? And now that he was… Jesus Christ. How did this get so far so fast? His mind was running away with thoughts, images, scenarios he would do anything to avoid, but every time he came close to a grand revelation, he was struck with the thought that there was _a dead body_ in front of him, bleeding out on the floor, and oh God, Cas killed someone. He was accessory to murder.

He wasn't ready for this.

He hadn't planned for this.

Why had this happened? Why him? Why now?

Why why why whywhywhywhywhy_whywhywhy_?

He looked up at Cas again and shook his head, just in case he didn't understand that he had just murdered the man who'd abused him. Yeah, that. That was a good angle. They were defending themselves, right? He was on private property after hours and Dean had the scars to prove it. But no… there was no way to prove that really. They could still go away. There would be some loophole or another that would trip them up and land them in jail. Michael had a rich family, would have good lawyers that would find a way to get them punished. He couldn't afford to compete with that.

They could always dump the body. Clean this place up and pretend like nothing had happened. No, Christ, no. That never worked. He'd watched enough CSI to realise that nothing stayed buried forever. Where they hell would they leave a body around here anyway? The trunk of a car? Cut it up and feed it to pigs? Find that acid that eats through bodies but not plastic? Bury him, tie him to a rock and sink him, find a swamp to put him in, dump him in the ocean, make it look like an accident or suicide or some random attack.

They weren't cut out for this. Dean was a mechanic not in the mafia (though that would be awesome), and Cas, well he was…

He was…

"Cas, talk to me buddy, are you alright?"

Dean was only barely functioning because he was in a state of shock, but Cas had gone comatose. Like he'd never committed a sin in his whole damn life. Like he'd never killed a man before.

"Cas?"

His eyes snapped away from Michael to Dean's, but they still looked remarkably distant. And after a moment, that felt a helluva lot longer, he blinked and nodded. And that was just enough to let Dean make some snap decisions, more productive than breaking down and crying like a damn little baby.

But fuck fuck fuck. He was struck with wave after wave of nausea and shock and guilt. Guilt wasn't good. That wouldn't look good in court. But what? Why was he thinking that far ahead? He kept drifting to the future, to the cops and trials and prison, he couldn't keep his head in the present. He didn't want to. He didn't want to even acknowledge the puddle of blood seeping thick and dark into the cold concrete floor, mixing with oil patches and starting fluid and stains so old he didn't even know what they were anymore. But not blood, blood didn't belong here. Would he have to try to wash that off? Better than staying there forever, a constant reminder.

Fuck.

He shook his head rapidly to clear his thoughts, he was drifting too much now, he needed to stay focused, make real decisions. He took a long, deep breath before he finally pulled out his cell phone.

"What are you doing?" It was a bit of a shock to hear his voice, Dean hadn't even realised how quiet it had been in the Garage since… but now it struck him with that harsh pounding in his ears, intense pressure from the quiet that dropped. His eyes shot to Cas, who looked panicked now.

"I'm calling the cops."

"But y-you can't?"

"What choice do we have, Cas?"

"We could run. We could leave and never come back. We could just disappear."

The thought had crossed his mind, and for a moment he hesitated, reconsidering it, but he didn't break eye contact. "You know we can't do that, it would just make us look guilty."

"But we are."

"We're not." His voice was firm, but he couldn't stop that quiver of uncertainty from poking its ugly head out and tainting his words with doubt. And though every fibre of Cas' being seemed to be begging him to the contrary, he could still see that he understood that this was the only way. "If we leave, we look guilty, and we can't run forever. This, this right here, this is self-defence. He would have killed me, and you stopped him, it was an accident." His eyes lingered still, making sure the other understood what he was saying, so clearly, so calmly. "If we leave it any longer without calling, it'll still look suspicious."

But even as he was saying it, Dean was imagining the outcome. The shame surrounding this, the most unholy of sins; the people staring at them just a little differently, the position he was putting his family in. He wouldn't be able to go back to KU. There was no life for him in this town no matter the outcome. After this one night, this one act, everything would change forever, in ways he could never have predicted. He started a revolution, he just didn't even consider it would ever go this far. And all he could really think was, _why me? What did I do? Why does this have to happen to me_? He never thought it would, he heard stories and saw films, but he didn't think he would ever be in this position, didn't think he had it in him to kill anyone (much as he might have fantasised about it with certain people).

Cas finally nodded, and Dean pressed the call button.

It wasn't much longer until the place was lit up with pulses of blue and red. Cops, coroners, medics, the place was full. Photographer's flashes, evidence markers – the whole shebang. It really was like an episode of CSI. An officer was interviewing him, but he could barely form the words, he was slowly letting the shock fade away to be replaced with realisation; harsh and cold, as he watched Cas across the way. He was gone, really gone, the world was just a blur around him, and he didn't care either. He liked it better this way, just numb and miles away. He hadn't been raised for this. Most he'd ever killed was a frog when he was a kid, and even that made plagued him with regret.

He noticed suddenly, like in some drunken stupor with parts of his consciousness missing, that he was being guided to a police car, and oh, he was in cuffs, just as a precautionary measure. And look, there was John and Mary and Sammy – why were they here? Had they been called? Why did they look so scared and sad? Huh.

Where was Cas?

There was something he had seen in pretty much every show he had watched, the cops could hold a suspect for 24 hours without evidence before they had to be released. They must be making the most of that time. He was in one of the interview rooms, must have been there for ages now. He was getting a little silly, he could feel it, maybe it was a part of this whole emotional process, they were asking him simple questions and silly answers were coming out of his mouth before he could even think about it. _Please state your name for the record. "My name is Dean Winchester, I'm an Aquarius, I enjoy sunsets, long walks on the beach and frisky women." Please, be serious, Mr Winchester. _

Mr Winchester, that was weird. He didn't get that often.

Things seemed to happen around him and not directly to him. And maybe they eventually realised how far gone he was, but they finally eased up. He was pretty much just a kid after all. Like a bad trip on a carousal ride, things turned and danced around him in a stream of blurry images and waves of voices and sounds; when he came to, falling out of his strange little mind-funk, he was at home, in his room.

It took a moment for him to really understand that it was his room, and then with every second that ticked passed he tried to unravel the events from the night before in his head, sorting the real from the imagined. There was a plummeting feeling in the pit of his stomach as he realised again that he and Cas had killed Michael Milton. Any relief he might have otherwise felt at the threat having been permanently erased from their lives was undetectable past emotions he couldn't even put a name to. Even as he pulled himself to the edge of the bed, sitting upright to prepare himself to stand, he felt shaky like he never had before. He knew he must look like he'd been to Hell and back, but he couldn't bring himself to stand in front of a mirror – could barely even bring himself to stand. When he finally did he realised he was still in the same clothes and a chill ran through him at the sight of blood, not sure if it was his own or Michael's.

His fingers moved deftly to undo the buttons of his work clothes until he stood naked in the room, eyes searching slowly for something else to wear, anything. Jeans and an old band-shirt, fine, good. As he padded out of the room barefoot, searching for his family, he had a zombie-look about him; he moved slowly and vacantly, but he wasn't clumsy or completely dead in the eyes, he was just occupying space, trying not to think or panic. Maybe this was still some part of the shock, he didn't even want to think about that. All he wanted to know was where he stood with the cops and where the hell Cas was.

He met Sam's eyes first, sitting in the living room, and he immediately shot a look through to the kitchen and Mary appeared at the doorway, followed shortly by John. Judging by their expressions alone, he assumed he looked pretty damn ghastly. And in truth, he did. Michael had gotten a few more good shots in than Dean realised, before he kicked the bucket; and that coupled with the still-healing wounds from before, plus the lack of real sleep… he looked like something you'd hang from a meat-hook.

After a few moments of hesitation, Mary finally approached him with some uncertainty, but ultimately motherly love won over and she was holding him in that gentle way she does. And on the surface it felt good, but inside it just made Dean all the more aware of what had happened and how that would impact the people he loved. He wondered if they saw him any differently now; now that he was involved in something like this.

Dean's eyes travelled across from John's to Sam's and the apology in his brother's eyes slowly made him realise that he must have told them everything. And shit, he hadn't even thought about that. But he supposed that Sam would have had to, he would easily cave under the pressure of having deceived his parents. The whole "Save Cas" plan and the frequent visits to campus, the plan and the whole backstory of Michael… if Sam hadn't told them absolutely everything, Dean knew he would have to fill in the blanks. But he needed some blanks filled himself right now.

"Where's Cas?" he asked eventually, his voice cracked like he'd been crying and screaming all night. He managed to turn his head enough to look into Mary's eyes with some pleading for someone to just say something.

She pulled away just enough to really look at him, "they kept him overnight for questioning," she said softly, but her eyes concentrated on his face as if she was searching for something, "the detective wants you to come back in today for a follow-up statement. They released you because you weren't making much sense apparently, sweetheart." Yeah, he remembered that much, and cursed himself for acting like such a douchebag when just telling the truth would have probably helped clear Cas' name and get him home. "I want to go back in now," Dean said decisively, but there was no real reaction to his statement. Mary nodded slightly and pulled him close again just for a few warm moments before she let go and took a step away.

"Sam filled us in," John said ominously from the doorway to the kitchen. Dean looked across at him again and back to Sam. "We have a few questions for you first, if you don't mind." The seriousness in his tone left Dean a little bewildered and his frown obviously translated to Sam who only swallowed in response. John's heavy hand indicated he should take a seat, and he did so with some caution before John and Mary took their places at either side of Sam on the sofa, facing him.

"Sam tells us Michael was bullying Cas, is that true?"

Dean blinked uneasily, wondering just how much detail Sam had gone into, or really just trying to recall how much they had told Sam about the situation with him being so young. He nodded once and John's eyes told him to elaborate, _so he hadn't said much at all then_.

"Cas was in an abusive relationship with Michael. Not by choice, he was just… forced into meeting with him. Michael was black-mailing him and…" he eyed Sam nervously but his parents made no indication that he should be worried about protecting Sam's innocence. In reality, Dean was just more nervous about pouring out Cas' secrets without permission, but he didn't have much of a choice now.

John nodded through his pause and Dean could have sighed with relief for him being cut off, "and how did you come to know about it?"

He shrugged mildly, "I called into his radio-show a few times before I met him in person. We met completely by accident when I helped him fix his car, and his radio identity is anonymous so he knew who I was before I realised who he was. Michael was my flatmate then, and one night I walked in on them…" Dean cleared his throat and averted his eyes, "when I heard Cas' voice properly I knew who he was, but I didn't understand what was going on, and I left."

"I thought you'd met him before, how didn't you recognise his voice then?" Mary said with a frown.

"He didn't talk much the first time, and when I saw him again after that he knew who I was and he disguised his voice I guess."

"You left? Was this when you came back home a few months back?"

Dean nodded.

"Right, and Cas came over to the garage to explain himself after that?"

Dean nodded again, "but he didn't tell me the full story until a few weeks later."

"And you were just compelled to help him?"

"Well… yeah."

"So this… this isn't the first time you've taken a beating for him, is it?"

Dean tried to chew on his lip, but he flinched slightly as he realised it was swollen and split, "once before by two friends of Michael." He paused, debating with himself before he added, "and they had attacked me and Jo at the bus-station before that, but that had nothing to do with Michael and Cas."

John nodded this time, and his expression was rather grim to say the least. "So, why was Michael at the Garage last night?"

"He wanted revenge, I guess. We had this plan, I'm sure Sammy told you, well clearly it worked a little too well and he wasn't happy about it."

"And?"

"He attacked me because Cas was out back. He must've heard what was going on, when he came back in Michael was beating me into the floor and I guess the first thing he could think to do was grab a wrench and…" his throat choked the words before they could get as far as his mouth and he gave in, and just quit talking.

"Okay," John said eventually, and then his head bobbed in a stiff nod, "okay. Let's go." He started to stand and everyone seemed ready to get away from the room and the conversation but Dean wasn't done, "_wait_."

His father turned and all eyes went to him again with some surprise, and when he didn't say anything for another moment, Mary and Sam slid back into their seats and John turned fully. Dean's heart was pounding because he was so confused between wanting to speak and wanting to curl into a ball and die, but he was here now, and they were listening and he had painted himself into a corner so… "the reason I wanted to help Cas was because when I first got to KU I was lonely. I was… I was so completely alone. I listened to his radio show and suddenly it wasn't so bad anymore. Just his voice was comfort enough to get me through the day, and when I eventually started calling in he became pretty much my only friend. I wanted to pay him back for that, I wanted to help him because he helped me. And because I like him."

"You like him?" John parroted, his face contorted with confusion; like he just couldn't understand how liking someone was enough to help them kill.

"Like, I really like him," Sam and Mary copped on then, but John was still oblivious, or maybe didn't want to understand what he was hearing, "like I maybe… like I maybe… _love_ him." And he really stumbled and stuttered through that sentence but he made it there and man was the range of emotions in the room suffocating after that.

He had never worried about his mom, and that showed because her face was just acceptance and an obvious overwhelming sense of pride and happiness. Sam was something similar but Dean could see he was also a little torn between childish revulsion and not really understanding. While John, well _John_. He never expected his dad to understand, and that was where he was most scared, because he wanted nothing more than to do his dad proud. He wore the same clothes, listened to the same music, loved the same cars, followed his every command to the letter… but still this one thing would slingshot their relationship back to nothing.

"Dad?"

"Come on, I'll give you a ride to the station."

AN: Just a little heads up to anyone who might be interested. I'm running a little competition on the Tumblr blog, you can check it out here: angel-on-the-radio.*tumbl*r.*com*/post/37056067767/okay-so-what-if-we-had-a-competition (removing stars and spaces, ermahgerd you are such an awkward duck for posting links)


	36. A Swan Song

AN: So this is it guys - the final chapter. The End.

I just wanted to thank everyone who's stuck by me during this, whether you were there from the start or you just began reading. It means a hell of a lot to me. All of your kind words and messages and fan-art and fanfictions based on this world… it's just been more amazing that I ever could have thought. This was just something I started when I first started university, and now I'm part way through my second year and it's unbelievable how much has happened. You guys have really kept me going, just waking up in the mornings to new comments and reviews has made me ridiculously happy. Even when I lost inspiration, you stood by and without your sweetness, this project might have been scrapped altogether. I hope it was as much fun for you as it was for me.

Hopefully this place we've created won't ever really die. Or maybe I'm just holding on so much because this has been a year of my life (which I would never take back).

There's more fun stuff on the tumblr blog, and a competition is running that'd I'd love you guys to check out, because it would mean the world to me: angel-on-the-radio.*tumbl*r.*com*/post/37056067767/okay-so-what-if-we-had-a-competition and I even have a new SPN-based fanfiction starting to organise itself in my head, so stick around for that if you've liked this.

Anyway, just thank-you. I love all of my little Demons. New and old, and I hope you enjoy this!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Thirty-Five<strong>

Sitting in the interview room again, significantly more concentrated now than he had been the night before, Dean's mind was still back in the car with his father. There was nothing but silence broken up by a low static buzz of music fizzling from the radio; and Dean did all he could not to think of _Angel's Demons_. John didn't speak, he just stared out at the road ahead, his features were heavy like a stone sculpture of himself, chiselled and hard. Dean knew better than to interrupt him, John was brooding, he was thinking. It would be obvious enough once he had settled himself into some kind of decision on the matter – this was only an expression Dean had witnessed for very serious issues, and normally it didn't last this long.

"Dean?"

His eyes snapped away from the spot he'd been burning into the floor to meet the eyes of the cop who'd be taking his statement. It took him a moment, but a slight smile pulled into place and he nodded, taking hold of the sides of the chair he was sat in and swallowing hard.

"How are you feeling?"

"Nervous," he admitted, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards briefly. "I just want to see Cas again."

"Once we take and review your statements, you should both be free to go," she said with a warmth his previous interrogator hadn't quite possessed. "Are you ready to get started?"

Dean nodded again, watching her finger press down on the record button of the little silver device between them. He almost faded back to the car again while he waited for her to start those obligatory record keeping opening lines before she addressed him again, asking why he had been at the Garage.

"I work there for my dad during school breaks – Cas was staying with me over Christmas, so he was there working too. We were closing up the place when Michael came."

"Alright, thank-you, and why was Mr Novak staying with you?"

"Because of his history with Michael," Dean said delicately choosing his words after a pause, "because I thought it would be safer for him to stay with me."

The questions went on until they started to overlap significantly with the conversation he had had with his family before he and John had left for the station. John was outside now, in the car parked around back; still brooding as he had been, Dean supposed. He sat in the waiting room at the front of the station on those hard plastic chairs that had felt the weight of so many criminals and relatives and friends, waiting for Cas. Sat there for close to half an hour before he relocated to the steps out front, not wanting to be anywhere near that particularly pungent scent of the police station any more.

They told him he was free to go, but asked him to give them a call if he ever considered leaving the state within the next few months, figured that was in case some amazing new evidence emerged that implicated him in some way, which didn't seem likely. Maybe if it went to trial, which all of these kinds of cases tended to (according to his extensive knowledge of criminal persecution shows).

He turned to the sound of a foot scuffing the concrete steps, Cas trying to get his attention. Man did the guy look exhausted, the dark rings under his eyes seemed more pronounced than usual, lids drooping, whole body near limp. Dean looked half normal stood next to him, as he was when he closed the gap and pulled him into a hug without even thinking. The strange thing? Cas barely stiffened for more than a second once he had gotten over the initial surprise when he hadn't been expecting it, and a few moments after that he was slinking his wrists around Dean's waist to hold him that little bit closer. And there was a soft desperation, a warmth in the closeness. Dean realised quickly after he had initiated the embrace that it was probably a little too forward, but he realised a second at that that he really didn't care.

Somehow when they pulled away, Cas' hand managed to cup Dean's face, dragging a thumb over his cheekbone gently and tracing over the brown-sugar dusting of freckles marked with a deep bruise centred around a swollen cut. It was the sleepy, blue eyes examining him that made Dean's hair stand on-end, his skin a little extra sensitive, his stomach twisting and tossing. His nostril's flared slightly as he inhaled a stunted breath before he moved in a fraction of an inch… and Cas' dozy smile faltered just a little to something that could be better described as worry with just a hint of pity. His hand slid closer to Dean's chin, thumb now brushing his bottom lip, and he mouthed something that looked like 'later' before he took a final long look and stepped away.

Dean watched all of this unfold, but he didn't quite feel like he was a part of it, it all felt quite distant. He nodded with some distraction and followed Cas' lead to put an unnecessary amount of space between them before he inclined his head towards the direction of the car (out of sight of them, thank God) and said something about his dad waiting before he led Cas back. He knew he should feel embarrassed or confused, or let down, _something _but in reality he was just glad to have Cas back with him. He had felt, without realising completely, like he had been missing an arm, like Cas was a part of him, like after all they'd been through together, that now they shared a more profound bond.

They spent a few hours in the house not really doing anything, not really talking. Dean just felt awkward more than anything now, after having admitted to his family how he felt about Cas without ever really being able to say it to the boy himself. The last thing he wanted would be to display that publically to them all now, and more than anything he needed some time to himself to just think and recount the events of the past two days. It was close to seven in the evening when the phone rang. It echoed through the house which had become surprisingly quiet when there was usually a battle of sound between TVs and music playing just on the threshold of 'too loud'. Dean heard his name being called by a voice he couldn't even take the time to recognise before he made his way downstairs, Mary handing him the phone with a touch of worry in her expression.

"Dean Winchester?"

"Yeah?"

"This is Sheriff Mills of the Lawrence, Kansas Police Department, I'm calling to let you know that there are no charges being held against you or Mr Novak in regards to the death of Michael Milton, we recommend that you don't leave the state without notifying us in advance for the next four months in case we need you for further questioning, but for now, you shouldn't have anything to worry about."

"That was quick," Dean said without really thinking.

"Considering the statements both of you gave, and your histories with the victim, as well as the forensics reports and blood splatter analysis, it's pretty open and shut. Like I said, there shouldn't be anything for you to worry about at this time."

"Thanks, I'll pass the message on to Cas."

"Have a good day, Mr Winchester."

Dean held the phone to his ear for another moment trying to think of something else to say, but for lack of anything he hung up and turned. Cas was standing in the doorway, Mary still beside him, he shrugged, "they aren't pressing charges, we're as good as innocent." The relief that washed over Mary was evident, but Cas was a little more subtle, obviously still carrying the burden of Michael's death with him quite heavily. And suddenly Dean felt bad for avoiding him since they'd gotten back. That really was a dick move on his part.

"Hey Cas, c'mon, let's go for a walk." He looked across at his mum for a second and with no obvious change in her expression he took that as an okay for them to go off. He looked back in time to see Cas nod in response.

"You're not going to tie me to a tree in the woods, are you?" Cas said with the hopeful beginnings of a smile touching the corners of his mouth as he looked across at Dean tentatively once they were clear of the house and heading away from the town. Just walking along the sidewalks lined with pretty little houses and a thickening population of trees.

"Don't reckon I could put a bullet between your puppy eyes," Dean replied with something a little sweeter than a smirk. And Cas' more confident smile in return, restored Dean's faith just enough before it plummeted down like his eyes to his feet, "look, I'm sorry about earlier."

"No," Cas replied a little solemnly, "I just didn't want to lead you into doing something where someone you know might see us."

Dean's head snapped back up to meet Cas' eye.

"You… weren't talking about that, were you?"

"I was talking about avoiding you after I… yeah, I'm sorry about that but, _what_?"

Cas cringed slightly, but he looked more carefree now than he had done in weeks. He looked for a moment as if he were going to talk about their 'almost-kiss', but instead he just chuckled that gruff chuckle of his and stared ahead towards the sky, looking like a lizard soaking in the sun that tickled across his porcelain skin. "We should get away, somewhere no one knows us."

"Out of Lawrence?"

"Out of Kansas."

Dean very nearly jumped at the idea there and then, but there was a pang in his heart and in his head, Sam and Jo and his parents and grandparents, everyone he loved. They were all here. Could he really just ditch all of that?

Cas must have looked across again long enough to notice that glint of uncertainty in his expression because he started talking again, taking a more gentle approach, "we'll come back. We could just get in a car and drive and drive, we could see everything this place has to show, we could sleep under the stars and eat what we find, we could do what we want. But we'll come back through, we'll see your family, heck we could take Sam with us once he finishes High School."

Dean smiled humourlessly and muttered something so inaudible that made Cas turn with a frown to ask 'what?'; "Stanford," Dean repeated, "Sam'll go to Stanford, he'll get some fancy degree, some fancy job, he'll get a wife and kids. Once he goes to College, he'll never come back home, Apple-pie life'll be too sweet for him to resist. Hell, he deserves it."

"So you want to stick around here and watch him grow up?"

"I want to be here for him. He needs me. I need him."

Cas chewed on his lip for a moment, and Dean sensed he understood, but at the same time he felt torn, between his family and his… his what? His Cas? "I can't stay here, not anymore," Cas said, prematurely ripping him from his stream of thought, "and _I_ need you."

"Cas, please, don't make me pick between you and him."

"I need to leave, Dean, I need to get away from here, I just… I can't go back. Because if I have to see those faces again, if I have to see that place again, _this _place again, I'm afraid I might kill myself."

Dean stopped in his tracks at that and looked Cas straight in the eye, "don't you ever. Don't you _dare _think about checking out early, Cas." There was a seriousness to his tone, and a look on his face that was so harsh, so unforgiving that it made Cas take a step back, swallowing hard to choke back any tears that might have been forming, but the seriousness in his own face might have made Dean well up too. "Promise me, right now, no matter what, you won't ever do that. I swear. I fought too hard to get you free of that crap to lose you."

"I'm sorry."

"You're an idiot," Dean said, turning away viciously, pulling a hand down his forehead and swiping it back up through a mess of blond hair before he whipped back around, but he could barely look Cas in the eye, "you're an idiot Cas, because I love you, okay? And if you start saying shit like this to me I'll… fuck…"

Cas really was crying now, when Dean managed to look him in the eyes, his own hot as fire, but he wasn't sobbing, the tears just rolled down his sallow cheeks, catching on rough beginnings of stubble that had grown out quickly with him not having shaved the past few days. Dean watched, breathing heavily, just waiting for him to say something, anything. But he didn't, he didn't say a word. Just slowly, _so _slowly, he closed that gap between them, a look in his eyes something of a mix of apology and an acquisition of permission. And then his hand slipped past Dean's waist again, fingertips tracing his spine downwards, palm following the curve of the muscles on his back. Reaching, feeling, trying to put some calm in him, trying to promise that as long as he had Dean, he wouldn't do anything so careless. The slightest response from Dean, with their eyes so fully connected now, green on blue, Cas pressed his lips against Dean's; just like he had imagined more times than he cared to admit, so full and feminine, but not half as soft. Still, there was a gentleness to this kiss, a tenderness and that promise. And though his stomach twisted, and he became so completely aware of his surroundings, it didn't take much to push that away.

The wet heat of a tongue pressing, parting his lips, head inclining just enough to grant Cas access… he tasted of something more than Dean could ever hope to describe, like smoke and danger and faintly of cinnamon and watermelon; he had a taste all of his own, so bitterly sweet, musky and so many perfect imperfections that he knew he would only experience it so fully in this moment and never again could he hope to replicate it in his own mind. That slight sting of stubble reminded him that his arms were hanging limp by his sides, and as he slowly uncurled his fists he found them moving naturally to cup Cas' face and rest at his hipbone. The rhythm, the tingle of their tongues caught in the spark of a strange dance he had never quite felt in such a way as this.

It was so delicate and heartfelt. Like they had both been waiting an eternity for this moment, and maybe they had been. And though neither of them seemed to want to pull away, eventually the kiss came to a natural finale and their forehead's pressed together for a moment, as they just breathed in each other's scents and tried to make sense of what they were feeling, trying to get their hearts to stop beating with such an intensity, trying to catch their breath. Dean's skin was buzzing with excitement as his hand slid from Cas' jaw to his neck, thumb brushing his bottom lip – puffy and a deeper shade of pink than usual – before he pressed a light kiss against it, so fleeting that they barely touched.

He pulled away just enough that he could look Cas in the eye as he said, "I'll come with you."

* * *

><p>Endings are hard. Dean had always known that, when he left high-school, when he left home for university, every time he had tried to finish anything from an essay to a relationship, he found it difficult. He would usually blame it on procrastination, because he could never finish what he…<p>

He'd never exactly had a way with words, and he was finding that a particular struggle as he leaned over a notepad in his room, trying to explain somehow why he was leaving, and why he couldn't tell them. The truth being that he just couldn't say goodbye to his family. He couldn't. He loved them more than anything, he put them before himself at every turn, he would risk his life for them – and in a way, he could see Cas as family for that same reason; which was why he was so torn now. But he could see that what his life was leading him to now. He and Cas they had some purpose, some red string tying them together despite all of the odds.

He'd never much been one for coincidence.

In the last few lines, he scrolled some horrible apology to his dad. To John. Who still hadn't enlightened him to the outcome of his seemingly endless contemplations. But at this point he could only assume the worst. He wasn't sorry for what he was feeling, he was just sorry that he might not have lived up to John's expectations: of a son with a horde of kids and a wife and a nice house with a porch-swing and a dog.

"Dean?"

He looked up suddenly to see Sam standing in the doorway, and he smiled a trademark half-smile.

"Why are you crying?" he asked, tilting his head in such a way that made his hair flop in front of his face. Dean frowned and touched a finger to his cheek, surprised to find it wet with tears he hadn't realised he'd been crying.

"C'mere, Sammy, close the door behind you." He spread his smile a little to hide any hint of sorrow, but it didn't quite reach his eyes, knowing what was coming. Sam hesitated for a moment, but there was still that look of innocence in his eyes as he pressed the door closed and took a seat on the bed next to his brother. "I gotta tell you somethin', Sam," he said after a moment, "me and Cas… we're leaving."

Sam stared at him for what seemed like quite a long time before his face scrunched up into a frown, "what? Where? You're going back to KU early?"

Dean sucked on his lip for a moment before he shook his head, "no, we're leaving here, everywhere. Goin' on a trip."

Sam looked horror-struck, leaning forward as if searching his brother's expression for some hint of a joke or a tease, but he knew him too well – he couldn't even imagine it was there to placate himself. "F-for how long?"

"I don't know."

"No Dean, no – you can't!"

"I'm sorry, Sammy—"

"Nu-uh. No, don't call me Sammy, Dean, you know I hate it."

Dean swallowed hard watching tears forming in his baby brother's eyes and for a moment he wondered why in hell he had made the decision to leave the kid behind. "We'll come back, we'll pass through every few weeks, months… I don't know. It won't be forever, I promise."

"But Dean…" he couldn't even find the words to argue, his voice had already cracked enough to make him turn away for fear of letting his big brother see him cry – when had he become so self-conscious? "Please, you can't leave me."

"I can't take you, and I can't stay – not after all of this."

Even Sam's lip was quivering, Jesus. He could feel that burning heat at the back of his throat, the prickling needles behind his eyes. Fuck. He couldn't choke up, he had to stay strong in front of Sam, he had to draw back the rest of his tears, had to keep himself together.

"Please…"

"Samm- _Sam_, this isn't the end, not really. We'll be back through here so much. I don't want to leave you, but I need to get out, we both do. We'll take you with us for a few weeks over the summer, I'll be here for you. And I'm always a call away, you know that. You knew that when I was at University."

He was biting his lip, trying not to cry out, trying to keep himself together as much as Dean, because just like the older Winchester wanted to make John proud, Sam wanted to make Dean proud. And though Dean knew that, he wanted more than anything to push those thoughts away right now, because he knew he couldn't handle it. "Okay."

"Come on, help me get some stuff into the car."

Sam's eyes widened, "you're taking the car? You're taking _dad's _car?"

Dean's eyebrow flicked upwards in reply.

"Are you crazy, Dean? As soon as he finds it's gone he'll hunt you down and kill you!"

"What have I got to lose?"

"You're insane."

"Come on, just help me."

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

* * *

><p>They left in the night. Sam stood in the garage watching Dean and Cas climb into the Impala. There was so much history in that car, vacations and arguments, long sleep-filled journeys, childish games – if Dean couldn't take his family, he was adamant about taking that car. It would be worth the hell on Earth that would come from John hearing the garage door open and the roar of the engine firing up. Last minute, Dean climbed back out to walk to Sam, stood by the door, locked in case John or Mary tried to interrupt their grand escape.<p>

"I'll miss you, Sammy," he said, ruffling Sam's hair, but his brother needed more than that, pulling him into a tight hug, "look after mom, okay?" Sam nodded into his chest, but he could feel him heaving from holding back tears. Dean rubbed his back a little quickly to let himself pull away, he couldn't start crying now, he had a road to focus on. And there were plenty of roads where they were going. "I'll be back before you know it."

Quickly as that, Dean was back in the car, the creaky garage door clunking as the mechanism pulled it up, loud enough to wake the whole street, it sounded like. As soon as it was wide enough for them to escape, Dean started up the engine with that beautiful roar that gave him chills, despite the emotions running high in him, he couldn't help stroking the dash and murmuring, "that's it baby," earning him a confused head-tilt from Cas in the passenger seat. And then they were gone. Darkness peeled aside by the two white beams of light guiding them onward to God-knows-where.

They were only a few miles out, and a few minutes after one in the morning that Dean could feel his phone buzzing, cutting his conversation with Cas short as he managed to pull it out of his jacket-pocket to see his dad's name flashing on the screen. He bit his lip but tossed it into the cup-holder, making it vibrate with more ferocity until it finally ceased.

Then, one more buzz.

A voicemail.

Cas' eyes traced the screen before it went dark, "you want to check that?"

Chewing on his lip still with indecision he finally nodded, flipping it open, pressing the dial button to hear the message before he held it to his ear.

"_You have one new message—_

"_New message:_

"Dean… I don't know what crap you're pulling running off like this but your mom and brother are a mess… Sam showed us your letter, and look – I understand, I do but…

"I'm not disappointed in you. I don't care who you love, I don't care what you do, as long as you… I just hope you didn't leave because of me. I don't hate you, Dean, you're my son. I trust you to make the right decisions, and your own decisions at that.

"Don't stay gone for too long, and for God's sake answer your phone when I call.

"But above all, just remember… if there is even a _scratch_ on that car when you come back, I will _kill _your sorry ass. Do you hear me?

_End of message_."

Dean snapped the phone shut in his hand again, staring for it as long as high driving skills would allow, and then he slid it back into the cup-holder.

"Is everything okay?" Cas asked, breaking through the silence, and Dean took a moment before he looked across and smiled, "everything's fine," he said, reaching forward to switch on the radio and crank up the volume as an old Kansas tune came on, his smile widened as he leaned back into the seat, one hand tapping a drum beat into the steering wheel while the other rested on the gearstick, Cas' hand moving to sit softly on top of his. "Everything's just fine."

**End.**


End file.
